


Silver, Secrets and Steel

by TheirHighestMajesty



Series: Silver, Secrets and Steel [1]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: AFTG Big Bang 2020, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Blood and Injury, Blow Jobs, Canon typical violence for Witcher and All for the game, Cat School (The Witcher), Communication, Communication Issues, Complete, Elves, End of Smut tags, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Fanart, Fantasy AU, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Inspired by The Witcher, Kidnapping, M/M, Magic, Monsters, Nilfgaard, No graphic descriptions but Andrew's canon backstory is there, POV Alternating, Past Rape/Non-con, Prophecies, Recovery, Rimming, Scoia'tael (The Witcher), Slow Burn, Smut in just two chapters and scenes are skippable if desired, Soulmate? Kinda not really more prophecy, Swords, Torture, Trust and Communication, Witcher AU, Witcher Contracts, Witcher powers and senses, canon warnings apply, detailed warnings in notes for every chapter, following tags are just for smut, may add more tags later, non-humans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:07:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 41,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26592628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheirHighestMajesty/pseuds/TheirHighestMajesty
Summary: An all for the game Witcher AU where Andrew is a Witcher and Neil is something interesting and unknown
Relationships: Katelyn/Aaron Minyard, Matt Boyd/Danielle "Dan" Wilds, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, Nicky Hemmick/Erik Klose, Seth Gordon/Allison Reynolds
Series: Silver, Secrets and Steel [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1934458
Comments: 109
Kudos: 165
Collections: AFTG Big Bang, AFTG Big Bang 2020





	1. I just want to feel something, I just want to feel

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time collaborating with others and participating in a fandom wide event. It is also my first time writing an AU of anykind and I am really happy with how it turned out. Huge thank you to my artist @punchsomeoneforme for creating stunning art for this piece and helping me with witcher lore and ideas. Thanks also to my beta @injo
> 
> For warnings: There is nothing explicit with rape/non-con but Andrews entire canon backstory and history with CSA is here but in fantasy world and will be implied, especially in this first chapter. Other warnings for this chapter are violence, abuse and semi-torture
> 
> Detailed warnings will be in the beginning note for each chapter as well as instructions to skip explicit content if desired when applicable
> 
> Please let me know if there is anything I forgot to tag or people would like tagged or warnings for. I can be reached at tumblr at [mortalsbowbeforeme](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/mortalsbowbeforeme). Comments and kudos are appreciated even on earlier chapters.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew's backstory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For warnings: There is nothing explicit with rape/non-con but Andrews entire canon backstory and history with CSA is here but in fantasy world and will be implied, especially in this first chapter. Other warnings for this chapter are violence, abuse, non-consensual body modification (witcher mutagens) and semi-torture

Andrew knew of the boundless nature of human cruelty long before the Witchers ever got their hands on him.

Nights spent in the cold and on the street if he was lucky. Belly cramping and swollen from hunger. Sickness from drinking muddy canal or puddle water in the street.

Being taken in, then cast out, by some family or another who wanted a servant, was often worse. Children don't make good domestic help and by the age of seven he learned that if a family was willing to take you in, could afford another mouth to feed, it was often for something worse. They wanted to make you say please and beg. Said it would end if you did as you’re told. They lied. He ran away in the night from one horror or another onto the next, more times than he could count. 

He was caught pickpocketing by a guard and when nobody would pay bail or ask for his release he ended up-sold to a Witcher, the School of Cat, along with several other orphan boys. 

Cass minded them, the aging mother of one of the witchers. She was kind. Caring. And Andrew had not known affection before. It made him foolish. So he stayed and he didn't try to run. Despite it all.

_“_ _You walked away from practice without my permission.”_

_“Do not stop. Bleeding is no excuse, you're done when I say you are done.”_

_“Take off the bandage and return to training. You can see to your wounds when I say you're done.”_

_“Head up, guard up, faster.”_

_“Strike from our wrist, not your elbow, again.”_

_“Learn to handle the pain. Enjoy it.”_

_“Be quiet.”_

_“Stop your crying, tears are for the weak.”_

_“Keep your mouth shut.”_

_“No one will believe an urchin like you anyway.”_

The other boys died. One by one. Monsters, training, illness, their own hand, hands of others, not surviving the mutations.

He survived - Drake, the mutations, pain, cold, hunger, initiation, and monsters.

Mutations. Trials of the grasses. He had thought he had known pain. Unimaginable pain, when he was seven, twelve. Drake. Claws of monsters and men. Being beaten into a weapon, training until collapsing. He was wrong. The mutations were worse.

Additional mutations stripped away all feeling but pain. No more fear. 

Then more again an experiment, curiosity, like a rat to study the plague. Filling with rage, mania, and bloodlust. Feeling so much feeling. 

More fire in his veins leaving him writhing in agony. He agreed to it this time. Bleaching his hair the color of bone, making him stronger, stronger than they should have. A mistake.

A whisper. "I saw a boy who looked just like you. Did you know you had a brother, a twin? Only his mother kept him.

"I wonder if he would take it as well as you.”

“What do you think? I think I should bring him here? A matched set."

Protectiveness. 

Rage. 

Blood. 

Fire. 

He tore through them like nothing, thoughtless, untouchable. Leaving death and destruction in his wake. No one in the keep survived and he walked out alone. Claiming the medallions of the fallen, a warning to others who crossed his path.

The School of Cat was no more. It had already been dead for centuries anyway. He just ridded the world of its perverted reanimated corpse.

He survived it. He didn’t look back at the smoldering ruins.

* * *

He found Aaron by mistake, over a year later. A haunting mirror image, trembling in a cold sweat from fisstech withdrawal. Found slumped against a wall after dispatching drowners leaping up from the river and taking those living in the slums of Novigrad. Followed by a promise, a contract of sorts.

A mother he had never known, a woman that beat her son and had him supply her with the drugs they were both slaves to. He took care of her quickly.

His brother didn't thank him for it.

A cousin determined to create and maintain an illusion of family. Cast out when he was unable to bend to the expectations of his zealot parents, devotees of the Church of the Eternal Fire. Love and family: that was what Nicky offered and wanted in return. He had none to give. Blood was thicker than water but it meant little.

Still, Nicky took care of them. Or tried too, as unnecessary as it was. Fed them, cobbled together enough money to keep a single room at an inn.

They were chased out soon, fervent morally pious citizens taking offense to Nicky's attempts as a bard, his flirtations, and petty glamours to draw in crowds.

The bloodshed from his vengeance made Novigrad inhospitable.

He didn't cut them off then for whatever reason. Dragged them through towns. Villages. Paying their way through Nicky's music and the death Andrew brought with him.

Never staying anywhere for long. Witchers were not welcome. After Aaron was set upon by men mistaking him for Andrew he avoided villages, ignoring Nicky's complaints at losing certain creature comforts.

A contract. Investigating disruptions in a wagon train. For a group of Nilgaardians, their leader an irrational sorcerer with a number 1 inked on his face. Two men marked 2 and 3 cowered behind them, bending over backward to please him.

Money was money.

The trial ended in a confrontation with a Scoia'tael group, the Foxes. Led by the once famed commando Wymack. Their small court, if it could be called that, secluded in a wooded valley.

Andrew always followed through on his contracts. And he had. Assassination wasn’t part of it, even if that was what was expected for a Witcher from the School of Cat. He had no quarrel with the foxes and refused to wipe them out on the whim of the disgraced second son of Nilfgaard. He spat at the irate sorcerer's feet. He fumed like an over-indulged toddler with an inflated ego, snarling like a feral dog.

Later he returned to the Foxhole ‘Court.’ To Wymack. He completed a favor for them clearing out their stretch of the forest of monsters, which lead into another arrangement, a contract, keep their lands free of monsters, help protect their people, and in exchange for lodging and stability for his family. Safety of a kind. Teaching of medicine and herbology for Aaron and stories of adventure of plenty for Nicky to compose from.

He took the deal. The longest and most troubling contract he had ever picked up, yet it still afforded him enough freedom to take other contracts as they came and venture out on his own. It was easier knowing that his people had some protection when he left and that they wouldn’t get in the way.

It was on such a secondary contract that he crossed paths again with one of the numbered mages. Kevin. Alone and injured, begging to be brought to the Foxes, jumpy at every mention of Riko or Nilfgaard. He took Kevin to them and added one more to his circle of protection. 

* * *

He took a contract in the middle of nowhere to dispose of a beast that had killed an old woman’s husband and son. He disposed of the Leshen responsible and returned to the old woman who posted the contract. 

He dropped the head at her feet with a single word demand, "Gold."

"I'm afraid I have none to offer.

“We had a deal. I don't take kindly to people breaking their deals,” They had negotiated a sum prior to him accepting the job. She knew his price.

“I can offer you something better,”

He stared unmoved, coin was sparse these days but she had known. She was hardly the first to try and cheat him out of his due once the job was done.

"A glimpse of your fate. Your future. I have the sight." 

Andrew sighed wearily. The woman was a hack, looking to avoid his wrath at her refusal to pay.

"I know my fate, woman, blood, violence, and death." Men liked to believe in prophecies. Anything to try and make meaning of the chaos and misery in life. But it wasn’t true. When bad things happened it was fate, not the result of one’s own actions and decisions, or simply the reality of a cold and uncaring world. Fate erased some of the responsibility. There was no bigger meaning, no greater picture or grand plan or design. Life was misery and pain for most, rare glimpses of happiness for the lucky ones. And then you died. Alone. And as for happiness and joy, Andrew had never been one of the lucky ones. His luck was survival, and eventually, it would run out. 

“Yes, that is true. You will bring blood and death with you where you go. But there is more. Another possibility. Not set in stone. The boy in the wood.” The woman grasped his hand in an iron grip and it took every ounce of control Andrew had not to just cut her handoff. 

Her eyes went unfocused.

> “Feeds your flames and soothes your fire. Staying by your side. A choice. You both will have a choice. Happiness. Not peace, not quite. Not for either of you, it’s not for you. Blood follows where you walk, fire remains in your wake. But contentment. Companionship. The boy in the wood will be a constant. Home without walls. He will hold your heart in his hands and you his. An honest man-made of lies.”
> 
> “Born of three worlds. Human but not, Elf but not, Monster but not. Knowing of the darkness and horrors of all three. You will know him by eyes of brown, eyes of green, eyes of grey and eyes of blue. Hair of the raven, hair of straw, and hair of flame. Clad in that which burns him.”
> 
> “The boy in the wood is your destiny and your doom. The destroyer. Destiny and doom for all, and you will be by his side.”
> 
> “The boy in the wood is salvation or destruction. Both, his nature is a duality”
> 
> “He will vanish and you will burn the world to get him back. The boy in the wood. He is your destiny. Find him. Find him. And hold him close. ”

Her eyes regained focus and she released his arm and stared at him dramatically. Andrew raised a single eyebrow.

“Sure lady.” 

He scoffed. 

An honest man made of lies? Wearing what burns him? Eyes brown, green, and blue? Hair of different colors? Granted the last might be achieved by some kind of dye, but the rest? Such a man did not exist. Couldn’t. She had guessed that he was attracted to men and didn’t assume women, he’d grant her that. Once it became clear that nothing he could do, short of killing the woman and wiping out the village, would get him his promised gold he left. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from the song "Feel Something" by Bea Miller
> 
> I am going to upload one chapter a day until it is finished on Oct. 4th
> 
> Please let me know what you guys think.  
> Art for this chapter is by the wonderful punchsomeoneforme. You can also see punchsomeoneforme's art at [punchsomeoneforme-willyou on tumblr](https://punchsomeoneforme-willyou.tumblr.com/)


	2. But I Kept Running For A Soft Place to Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil's backstory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same warnings for Neil's canon backstory in this chapter: Implied/referenced torture, blood and gore, unnamed minor oc character deaths child abuse, death of parent and life on the run

Nathaniel knew from a young age that his parents did not love each other, at least not anymore. His father was always screaming and shouting and would hit his mother or worse when they argued. His mother had nothing kind to say about her husband either and would demand Nathaniel shift his features to match her own mousey brown hair and grey eyes when they were alone and call him Abram. She hated the red hair and the stark electric blue eyes of his father that he could hold on his face without effort and taught him how to use the talents he inherited from her. Mary was only part doppler and could change some facial features, voice, and hair to match others but not a full transformation. When Nathaniel was little she would play with him and read stories, changing her voice and face for each character. 

But when Nathan was home he had to look like him, she didn’t want him knowing he had inherited the gift as well. His father always wore armor that seemed to be constantly sticky with blood. He had to tell him what magic, skills, and lessons he learned each day from his Lola and his other tutors. He had to be quiet, never speak out of turn, and always listen. Pain was the consequence for disobedience. When he was seven his favorite tutor let him read stories and showed him how to make glamours and illusions. When he told his father he had struck him and burned him, stories and pretty magic were useless. 

The next day Lola and his father used the tutor to show him how to take apart a human body. He didn’t like that lesson as much. His new tutors were stricter. 

He learned how to hold a knife and use it by having them used on him. He learned how to pull the intestines out of a man and make him look at them while he was still breathing. He learned how much blood someone could lose until they lost consciousness. He learned how to set things afire with his magic and what flames felt like on his skin. He learned that holding silver for too long would burn him thanks to his mother’s doppler blood. He learned that the sun of Nilfgaard his father always wore around his neck was made of silver and would make his skin bubble and blister when it was held fast against his shoulder, branding him when he was eight. He learned that if silver was held against his skin for too long it would burn for days before going he stopped being able to feel it at all when his father made his mother pierce his ears with silver studs.

When he was ten his father took him and his mother on a trip to the Imperial Magic Academy or as it was also known, the Nest. He learned that other children did not grow up watching men be taken apart piece by piece when he and two other boys watched his father flay and dismantle a man for disobeying orders and one of the boys had cried, while the other watched in rapt fascination. That night his mother took him and they ran away from his father.

He learned different lessons then. He learned how to pretend to be someone else, how to lie, he learned how to run, and hide. How to sing songs and pickpockets for money. He learned to never trust anyone and to never ever use his magic. To hide his pointed ears because humans hated elves, and he was more elf and monster than he was human. He learned that his mother’s fists hurt too. 

They ran for years, never staying in one place too long, staying in forests, alleyways, villages, and caves. He learned how to stitch a wound closed and be silent when an arrow was pulled from his body. And one day he learned what happened when his father finally caught up to them.

They managed to escape on some stolen horses, his mother slumped over and barely staying in the saddle. They rode hard until one of the horses collapsed and died of exhaustion. He dragged his mother to a cave on a beach and he learned why they had run. His mother told him that he was a Source, that he was supposed to be given to the Academy for training to become a mage for the Nilfgaardians but she had taken him in the night. Would that have been so bad a fate? He wondered.

With her dying breaths she made him promise, don’t look back, don’t slow down, and don’t trust anyone. Be anyone but himself and never be anyone for too long. And never ever use his magic. As the light faded from her eyes she hissed out the words _Hen Ichaer_ before falling limp, dead. With that, he gathered the remaining gold she had stolen, forged passes to cross borders, a few useful lockpicks, and other items from his mother’s sack and placed them in his own. He burned her body on the beach and didn’t look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter even though it was a bit short, next chapter Andrew and Neil meet
> 
> Title for this chapter is from the song "Runaway" by Aurora which really works for Neil and also gives me fantasy vibes for some reason


	3. Better Luck Next Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew runs into someone in the woods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for very vague references to violence and abuse, and very mild blood/injury

“Better luck next time,” he tapped his two fingers to his temple in mocking salute with his free hand, after knocking the man to the ground with a heavy blow from the flat of his sword. 

"Fuck you" the figure choked struggling to get up.

Andrew kicked him in the gut when he made an attempt to escape, "No thanks."

“Are you going to kill me Witcher?” spat the boy, at least it looked like a boy, as he wiped the blood away from his lips crumpled on the ground.

“You’ve been stealing from the locals. Will you stop?” 

“Probably not. Man’s got to eat. I’d rather not die though, and am planning on moving on soon anyway. I’ve been here too long if people are noticing enough to put out a Witcher contract. I feel special. This place is nice though, better than I’ve had in a while. I’ll miss it.”

Andrew took a look around the rundown barn the boy had scurried into at his approach, mildewy hay and grass piled up in a corner where he could smell the creature slept. The shack was half falling apart in the forest with nothing else left standing around it, the area had been reclaimed by the land. It was pitiful, really, even by the standards of the war-torn countryside and impoverished peasants in the area. There were more holes in the roof than the actual roof, and a tree growing through it. He took another breath inhaling through his nose. The boy smelled off, not just from sleeping in mildewing hay. Not fully a monster, but certainly not fully human or elf. 

“What are you? Doppler?” He guessed.

“That’s none of your fucking business.” Possibly a doppler then, although it didn’t make sense for a doppler to be sleeping in a run-down barn and stealing from the local village. Why not just take the place of a villager? At least dopplers weren’t particularly dangerous, they were thought to be fairly passive creatures, though Andrew knew it wasn’t necessarily always true. Things were always more complicated than they seemed.

“I have a contract to get rid of the ‘ghastly phantom’ that’s been stealing chickens and trinkets from the village. I was expecting a wraith or a few nekkers, not you.”

“I’m alive, thank you very much.” The boy got back to his feet, watching him warily and started inching away. He was an idiot if he thought he could run.

“Don’t run,” he warned. The boy seemed harmless but one could never be sure.

“Look asshole, are you going to kill me or not? If you aren’t would you kindly fuck off and leave me alone. I won’t be stealing any more chickens from the  _ kind folk _ of Millport.” he spat sarcastically.

His medallion vibrated and he backed the boy into a corner and he shrank back. He was small, barely taller than he was, which was saying something, and dressed mostly in rags, it was impossible to tell what color they had been originally. His eyes were brown, dull, hair too, he looked utterly uninteresting and common. Aside from the sharp cut of his jaw and cheekbones that he would admit begrudgingly were appealing, he appeared average, unremarkable. 

He turned his head as he was pressed into the corner eyes darting desperately an innocuous pile of leaves. Interesting. He backed away from the boy and approached the spot, panic flashed briefly on his face.

“What are you hiding?” he growled lowly. 

“Nothing,” The boy lied quickly.

He drew his sword and pointed it at the boy’s face and he flinched away. The movement disrupted his hair revealing a glimpse of a pointed ear.

“You’re an elf?”

“Yes, Scoia’tael. The rest are dead” He could hear his heartbeat racing in fear, it picked up slightly at his words. He was a good liar but not good enough. The Foxes were the nearest Scoia'tael band and they were very much alive. He wouldn’t trust Nicky and Aaron with them if they weren’t good at staying alive at the very least.

“What are you?” he asked again, demanding this time.

“It doesn’t matter. Just kill me and be done with it.” He closed his eyes and tensed.

Andrew withdrew his sword. This was interesting, not the typical benign contract. He was curious now.

He pulled a silver coin from his pocket and threw it at the boy. He caught it reflexively. 

“What the fuck is -- ah fuck. Silver, really asshole?” He handled the coin without a problem for a few moments before hissing in pain and dropping it.

Interesting. Especially when coupled with what looked like silver studs in the boy's ears. 

“Let’s play a game,”

“Fuck off,”

“I’ll ask a question and you’ll answer honestly, in exchange I won’t kill you,” The boy scowled.“I’ll answer a question of yours too,” he added.

He folded his arms and glared, Andrew took that as agreement. “What is your name?” an easy one to start.

The boy stared at him blankly for a few seconds, “Call me Neil.” He settled on seeming to test out the name in his mouth. He was clearly lying, he could hear it in his heartbeat, smell it in his sweat but Andrew let it slide, for now. What he called the boy wasn’t important. 

"I'm Andrew," 

"That wasn't my question. I still get one."

He clenched his fist and regretted giving out the free information. "So you do."

"Who do you work for?"

"I'm a witcher. I work for whoever has the coin and a monster that needs killing."

Neil scoffed, "People are the real monsters. Whose coin do you have now then?"

"Ah ah ah, it’s my turn now."

Neil glared, "You didn’t answer my question the first time."

"I did. If you want a better answer, ask a better question."

"What are you, what species? And don't try lying. I can smell you well enough to have a good idea and can tell when you are lying, Neil." He spat out his name sarcastically.

"I'm a mutt, you could say. Little of this, little of that. You're hardly human yourself. Not anymore."

"That's not an answer."

"If you want a better answer ask a better question." The boy smirked, echoing his words. Cocky fucker.

"Fine. Your turn."

"You aren't going to kill me," Andrew opened his mouth to respond. "Wait, wait that wasn't a question. Just a statement."

Andrew narrowed his eyes and sheathed his sword but kept his hand on the hilt. 

Neil slumped down in the filthy straw and leaned against the rotting wall. "What side are you on? Where your loyalties lie? Redania, Novigrad, Nilfgaard, Aerdin, Temeria?"

"I'm a witcher, I don't get involved in human affairs. I'm on no one's side but my own. I take a contract and move on, I’ve worked for them all at one time or another, and I will still long after they are all gone. It's the path." He spat the last words out bitterly.

Fuck the path, fuck this life he had been forced into. Andrew was only good for death, it was his purpose, be the monster that killed other monsters for the whining humans, in exchange for a few pieces of gold or silver. "I stay with a Scoia'tael band sometimes, between contracts. Answer my last question properly this time or I'll cut you open, see if I get a better answer from your insides..."

Neil gave him a sharp and feral grin. "I have some latent doppler blood, you were right about that. Mostly elf --"

"Would have thought you were a dwarf or halfling with your height."

"Fuck off, you're one to talk. And a splash of human, couldn’t tell you the ratios, perhaps more shit." 

Andrew nodded, there was more, his heart rate picked up slightly when he claimed he couldn’t recall the ratios. There was something he wasn’t saying but he let it go. He wasn’t particularly interested in the boy’s lineage and didn’t care about a drawn-out family tree. That was enough. 

He sat on the ground across from him leaning against the tree and cast igni on the charred logs of an extinguished fire. Something, a longing, flashed across Neil's face at the magic. 

He pulled out a loaf of bread and hunk of cheese from his pouch, splitting them both and tossing half to Neil. He gave it a weary sniff and waited until Andrew took a bite of his own before scarfing it down like he hadn’t seen food in days. 

“Why are you out here all alone? There are wolves in these woods don’t you know, and monsters that steal bad little children from their beds in the night.” Andrew took a swig from his flask.

“Not your turn.” Neil raised up the crust of what remained of his bread in a mockery of a toast. The movement caused the collar of his unlaced and stained shirt to slip and reveal the sharp cut of his collar bone. This Neil was pretty enough, Andrew supposed, but he never went anywhere for those kinds of needs aside from one or two particular tavern keeps and brothel managers who knew how to keep hands to themselves and their mouths shut. His distraction indicated that he may have to pay Roland a visit sooner than he had intended. 

“Then take yours,”

“What do you do, witcher, what is your path?”

“I wander the world for coin, and kill to earn it.”

“A mercenary then, or perhaps a whore, neither move without gold.”

Andrew refused to rise to the insult, “I find I deal more in monsters than men or cock.”

“Aren’t they the same thing? I have always found people to be the greatest monsters, men who think only with their cocks included.” He mused. A true statement if there ever was one.

The deeds men did were more monstrous, more bloody and cruel than that of any beast he had ever faced. More twisted and imaginative, monsters killed out of necessity often fear, for food or shelter, because it was in their nature. Men killed, tortured, and maimed out of greed, desire, wealth, power, or simple amusement. The violent acts of humanity have always outweighed those done by the creatures that came during the conjunction of the spheres. 

“Ah, that is true is it not. But witchers are not created to destroy the evils of men, just the evil creatures born from chaos.” he acknowledged with a tip of his head. “Where will you go now that you can no longer stay in such luxurious accommodation?” He gestured broadly to the rotting and ruined shack. 

Neil stiffened and blinked at him warily from across the fire. He could smell the acrid stench of fear and sweat on him. He was nervous. “Not sure, wherever the roads may take me, I’m sure there is another village somewhere with chickens that aren’t locked up at night.

“What did your contract for me say, what did the villagers notice?

“Something had been stealing chickens, eggs, and grain in the night. Without a trace they said. A mysterious glowing and smoke coming from the wood. Small objects missing. A traveler came through and suddenly vanished missing, leaving behind a trail of blood. People falling ill, especially children, men losing their minds and striking their loved ones. Surely the work of an evil spirit or monster.”

The boy let out a bitter scoff, “I think you will find the village men beating their wives and children is a result of drink and malice, no magic. And the villagers getting their water from the same place they shit has harmed their health more than I.”

“And the rest?” 

“Are you taking your turn?” Sickness was common and men were cruel, such was life. Stupidity, drink, and the strong hurting the weak, a more likely cause for the village’s ills than intervention from some outside force. It usually was.

“No.” They sat for another moment while Andrew thought of his next question. 

“What are you hiding, what’s under those leaves?” He pointed to the dark corner of the shed and the scent of fear from Neil spiked. He tensed up and glanced to the corner.

“Nothing,” He spat trying to make his face blank, but it was too late. Andrew jumped to his feet and made a movement toward the corner. Neil was on his feet in an instant and seemed to flash, there was a blur of light, jolting across the room in less than a second and grabbing whatever was hidden there, a leather sack as far as he could tell. Flashing again with some kind of magic moving out of the shack in an instant.

Andrew scrambled after him to the doorway, to try and catch him but once he was in the open forest, much farther away than should have been possible, he turned, slinging the sack over his shoulder,.

“Better luck next time,” Neil smirked with a mocking salute echoing his original words. With that, he let out an earsplitting shriek that shook the ruined shack causing it to start to collapse and crumble on top of Andrew and spooking his horse.

With another flashing blur of light, Neil was gone, disappearing into the woods.

Andrew let out a cough picking himself off the ground he had dived to escape the building’s collapse. Straightening up he decided to trudge after his horse and coax it to return rather than chase after Neil who had disappeared in the opposite direction.

He had fulfilled his contract, Neil wouldn’t be stealing any more chickens, hopefully, he could still collect the reward without some kind of trophy. Strange magic though, he pondered asking Kevin about it next time they ran into one another or were visiting the Foxes at the same time but decided it wouldn’t be worth the lecture and effort. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone enjoyed this, next chapter is pretty short and I may upload two instead of one tomorrow depending on responses.  
> Otherwise update schedule is one chapter a day until the story finishes on the fourth  
> Art is by the wonderful [punchsomeoneforme](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/punchsomeoneforme-willyou)


	4. A Phantom in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil is being followed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for Neil's general paranoia and considered but not attempted murder.

The witcher was following him. He must be working for his father, he saw him too often to be a coincidence, though he didn’t notice Neil, and he kept his distance. He would see him riding his massive black horse through villages, hear him on the trails. A branch snapped in the forest. Neil ducking away and hiding with not a second to spare. Accidentally stumbled across his campsite in the middle of the night. 

How?

How did he keep finding him? He managed to avoid any confrontation but there were too many close calls for Neil’s comfort. 

One night he came across his camp. He kept his distance not daring to get closer and risk waking him. Years on the run and his mother's paranoia had beaten silence into him while traveling in the woods. But a witcher’s senses were keener than any humans. 

He wondered if it would be worth the risk? To get closer. To end this hunt before the witcher had a chance. He crept closer until he was almost leaning over him, careful to stay downwind as one would when sneaking up on a wolf. He leaned over the witcher’s body.

He should do it. End it right here. Slit his throat while he slept. 

He’d probably wake. And who knew who would walk away from the fight alive.

Still. This might be his only chance. A witcher on his heels was more dangerous than anything his father had sent after him so far. 

He wrapped his hand around the hilt of his dagger and leaned forward. 

And then like a fool he hesitated. And his movement must have woken the witcher somehow because his eyes snapped open. All the times he had observed the witcher from a distance he had never seen this. Never surprise, never anything really. And just like that, it was gone and he was staring down at a statue. 

They made eye contact for a split second and Neil turned on his heel and fled. 

He ran until his feet bled and he collapsed in a heap on the forest floor, physically unable to continue. Hands clenched in the rotting leaves. And nothing happened. He turned and scanned the shadows. There was nothing there. 

Had the witcher not given chase?

Had the noise he heard as he bolted really been nothing more than the pounding of his own heart, the blood rushing in his veins and the ragged breaths torn from his lungs? The thudding footsteps nobody's but his own?

It must have been. Because Neil was alone in the wood. Nothing and no one just like he had always been. A forgotten phantom, not truly real.

And that was what he wanted, so why did he feel sorrow? Hopefully, the witcher would think the encounter a dream, a vision of his prey, and nothing else. The ache in his lungs was from the excretion. That was all. Not the open and wide look of surprise in the half-second that Andrew opened his eyes before becoming blank as stone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was actually originally just going to just like the first 7-8 sentences but I added more at the last minute.  
> Hope you guys enjoyed it, it will be much longer next time I promise. I will post it tomorrow when I am hopefully less exhausted by my new job.
> 
> Hint: Andrew and Neil's paths cross again


	5. The Boy in the Wood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew keeps seeing a familiar face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally some decent sized chapters, I think this one might be as long as the rest of the story so far.
> 
> Warnings for violence, injury, scars, allusions to both Neil and Andrew's pasts, mention of self-harm.
> 
> If there are any questions or things I forgot to tag please let me know, I can also be reached on tumblr at [mortalsbowbeforeme](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/mortalsbowbeforeme)

It was a few months before he crossed paths with Neil again. He stopped at a tavern after fulfilling a contract to kill a nest of drowners. The townspeople weren’t grateful. They never were. They shunned him and made signs to ward off the evil eye every time they saw him, pulling children indoors. Monster they said. Mutant. Witcher. Killer. The titles all sounded the same on their tongues, and they were all true. 

The only reason he hadn’t been turned away from the tavern and refused service was fear, and maybe a small measure of gratitude for killing the creatures that had been killing fishermen and women who wandered too close to the river for washing. A bard was playing in the background badly, the lyrics comical and grossly offensive, getting only anger and jeers from the crowd who started to throw bread and food at him when he ended the song. For a moment he was not the most hated man in the room and settled into his dark corner to try and eat in peace. 

He glanced over at the bard. There was something familiar about him. Andrew would swear he had seen him before, but with his memory, he never could forget a face and could not place him. Blond hair the color of straw, grey eyes. He inhaled sharply, eyes widening with recognition. Hello, runaway. 

Neil gathered up the discarded bread, shoving what food he could salvage into his pack. His eyes found Andrews from across the tavern and he went stiff. Andrew raised his ale up in a toast.

Neil threw a mug at the back of the head of a burly looking man, and stumbled into another, spilling his ale, shouting “Oi, witcher, what you do that for,” blaming him for both insults. 

One of the men let out a shout and swung at him with a punch that Andrew was forced to block and deal with.

Neil bolted out the tavern door, without another word. Leaving him to deal with the ensuing chaos and brawl he left in his wake.

* * *

He caught glimpses of him after that with some regularity, a shadow in the wood, a laugh in a tavern. He always ran, never stayed, always running back into the forest, vanishing without a trace. Everywhere he went, in the mountains, Skellige, Rediania, Temeria, he swore he even caught a glimpse of him in Toussaint.

Sometimes, he saw him at night when he was alone with none but the stars, moon, and Sir for company, half-remembered encounters, eyes glowing in the darkness hovering over him, blue bright like magical fire, not the dull brown he had seen before, somehow he knew the eyes were still Neil’s.

He couldn’t tell whether these encounters were real or dreamt. Some he knew, felt somehow real, waking up to find supplies missing and an odd scent lingering in the air, a track or two. Others he knew were dreams. Fake, illusions brought on by loneliness, dreams of half-whispered words and soft touches, warmth, laughter, and smiles, the echoing of a prophecy. _The boy in the wood_ . _He is your destiny. Find him. Find him. And hold him close._

He tried to purge these dreams from him. He rejected it. The nagging and lingering feeling, the wonder, was he the one, the boy in the wood? He had seen his eyes brown, eyes grey, eyes green. Hair black, blond, and brown. No red yet, no blue. He rejected the prophecy and ideas of fate and destiny, there was no grand plan, no hand behind the curtain. It was chaos, randomness, pain, and death. That was what the world was. There was no art to it. No order. 

He could not rid himself of his curiosity. Curiosity killed the cat, after all, and Andrew was nothing if not self-destructive.

* * *

He was making his way through the forest when he heard voices coming from some ruins. Bandits most likely but the angered voices of several men and another much more familiar lilting voice made him pause.

A crash. “Your funny songs won’t gain nearly as many laughs without a lute now will they.” Came a shout.

Not sneaking away this time, he thought immediately, spurring Sir on towards the ruins without thought. Neil was stopped pinned up against a crumbling stone wall outside by a group of burly men who seemed to have taken great offense to his latest song.

One of them had a grip on his shoulder pinning him to the wall with a knife in one hand the others in a half-circle around him.

“Come now, gentlemen. His singing can’t be that bad.” He drawled, unsure why he was interfering, instead of relieved at the aid, a look of terror flickered across his face.

“Aye, right, we’ll let him go, jus’ as soon as he takes back what he said ‘bout my mum and Greg’s wife and sister.”

“I was just pointing out that the wife and sister are the same person.”

“Take that back, you son of a whore”

"I don’t know about my mother, but when I fucked yours she moaned like a whore." Gods above, the rabbit was extraordinarily stupid, or perhaps he had a death wish.

One of the men, not Greg presumably, started to choke Neil against the wall with a roar of rage. 

Despite this Neil rasped out, "Tell me, did the cuckolded man that raised you have an extraordinarily small cock? He must have for your mother to seek out the embrace of the rock troll that led to your conception. You certainly have your birth father’s looks and intellect." at the man choking him. 

A fist quickly landed in Neil’s face. This was soon followed by a knife to his gut after another rapid string of increasingly creative, vulgar, and somehow desperate insults fell from his lips, leaving no time to decide if he wanted to interfere or cast Axii to dissuade the men to leave it be. 

While he was busy taking down the bandits after inevitably getting roped into the fight despite not actually having done anything to them Neil managed to slink away but leaving behind a trail of blood indicating that he was still badly injured. 

* * *

He tracked the trail of blood and lingering scent that grew increasingly putrid as days passed. Infection had likely set in he realized as the scent grew stronger, he wondered if there would be a living person at the end of the trail or just a body.

He caught up to Neil slumped against the wall of a stone alcove and the side of his tunic was crusted over in dark rusty blood and dirt. He was alive, but barely. His chest was heaving and he let out ragged breaths, his temple was slick with sweat and he could feel the heat radiating off of him from the fever from a few paces away. 

He rapped on the stone wall, his eye’s slit open but were glassy and unfocused wavering as took in Andrew’s form. “Just kill me.” he rasped

“No.”

“Please.” 

“I don’t like that word, don’t use it.” Andrew snarled, feeling considerably less charitable than he had a few minutes ago. Even after all these years, he couldn’t stand that word.

Neil flinched, looking panicked and started to struggle to his feet, stumbling and scraping his hand against the wall, moving so slowly Andrew wasn’t even the slightest bit worried about him making an escape. Even if he somehow was able to get past him, by the state he was in he doubted he would make it ten paces before dropping. And Andrew had a horse.

“I won’t le’ you take me. Not alive. You’ll have to kill me first. I won’t go back.” he shouted.

“Where on earth would I take you? A medic? It’d be a miracle if you even made it that far.”

“You’re working for them. I won’t go.” He wobbled on his feet swaying dangerously back and forth even with one hand braced against the filthy cave wall. 

He made it a step forward and then another half-step like he was actually going to try to run before he collapsed in a heap losing consciousness.

Andrew stared at him crumpled at his feet before letting out a sigh and turning his body to his back, rummaging through his rucksack for supplies and potions that wouldn’t immediately kill someone who wasn’t a witcher. He wasn’t sure why he was bothering, other than plain curiosity and boredom. And the persistent inkling in the back of his mind that would fade despite his best efforts that this was who the crazy old bat had been talking about. 

He pulled out some spirits, far too fine to waste but all he had and some passably clean rags before tugging up the boy's shirt before having to cut it off when it stuck fast to the oozing wound and Neil let out a pained groan. He shoved down the doubt and revulsion in his head that told him it was wrong. It wasn’t, Neil would die without treatment, it didn’t make him like them. If Neil still wanted to die if he awoke or ran again it wasn’t Andrew’s problem to deal with

The stab wound was certainly infected, it didn’t take a physician to see that. The edges angry, red, and inflamed at best and oozing a foul-smelling dark pus and crusted over that had acted as an adhesive against the tunic and burst slightly when he was finally able to remove it. He grimaced and set about cleaning the wound and removing the stained and filthy bandages that had been hastily and sloppily wrapped around his torso. 

He used what salves he had that wouldn’t immediately kill a human or elf and presumably not kill whatever kind of strange hybrid Neil was, before rewrapping the wound with clean bandages. Neil didn’t stir but the tones in his hair had started to shift. At first, Andrew thought it a trick of the rosy light brought about by the setting sun, but on closer inspection, it appeared that Neil’s hair was gradually darkening from the ashy blonde to a deeper auburn. It was unsettling like blood had been spilled and was staining his hair red, but there were no actively bleeding wounds on Neil’s scalp or head that he could find, so he wrote the change off as some kind of fading glamour or a symptom of Neil’s supposed doppler genes.

 _Hair of flame._ Red hair. No. The “prophecy” wasn’t real. But the eyes… He thought he had caught a glimpse of blue before they slipped shut. No. It wasn’t real. It must have been his imagination. Never mind that Neil was part elf, part human, and part doppler. 

He tipped a potion down Neil’s throat that would hopefully help with the pain and healing without killing him before sitting back on his heels. Nothing with silver in it at the very least. 

This was clearly not the first time Neil had been badly injured judging by the scars scattered across his back and torso. It was no wonder that he had angered people to the point of stabbing him in the past. Someone’s desire to stab him was clear from every word that Andrew had ever heard come out of his mouth, but it was shocking that he had managed to survive so far. Andrew was no stranger to scars, had dozens himself, from monsters, men, and even those self-inflicted. Still, these were rather extreme and certainly suspect. 

Dozens of slashes from daggers or shallow blows from swords or claws were across his belly. Scatterings of burns, scrapes, and planes of alternately smooth and distorted skin on one side punctured by the latest wound. Jagged thick and ropey scars across the span of his chest and angling abruptly before continuing down making a double zig-zag ending at his hip. Like someone had tried to cleave him in half with two brutal swings of an axe, and very nearly succeeded. A brand the exact shape of the Nilfgard’s star insignia surrounded with what looked like clear imprints from a thin chain. That was one wound that wouldn’t have come from a life on the run and living rough. 

Odd swirls and patterns on his arms and scattered over his torso, that upon closer inspection were perfect impressions of coins, various silver currencies that Andrew could recognize like they had been pressed and branded into his skin. 

He recalled Neil’s delayed reaction and hiss at being tossed silver coins and realized that that was likely exactly what they were. It didn’t explain the earrings though, perhaps they white gold or pewter. They must be. Unless… No, why would he wear silver earings if it burned him? Despite the man’s tendency to deliberately provoke violence against himself he doubted he was that masochistic. 

He let out a heavy sigh. Neil was still unconscious. He could leave, he had no reason to stay or involve himself further. Neil couldn’t be a person with the peculiar type of luck to encounter monster after monster and survive those attacks with these kind of injuries. No one’s fate held that many close calls with one still surviving. No, someone clearly wanted Neil dead, probably someone with connections to the Empire judging from the insignia branded into his shoulder, he wasn’t an idiot, Neil was clearly on the run, every word out of his mouth coupled with the scars made that a rather obvious conclusion. 

He had no reason to bring whatever danger was hunting Neil on himself, or the shambles of a life and “family” Andrew had begrudgingly hobbled together and been thrust into. He had even less reason to bring down the wrath or attention of the empire to himself or the Foxes who had managed to stay neutral thus far in greater political conflicts. In part because of their backwater nature and the stubborn insistence of Wymack to let in any pathetic stray with a life story filled with tragedy and rejection from human society. This “Neil” was exactly the type of pathetic creature that they would all be falling over in a matter of hours. 

He should leave. He had done his part, there was no reason to involve himself further. Hells, he could even leave some supplies, rations and water, as a balm to his nonexistent guilty conscience. There was no reason to involve himself further. He stamped out the voice of logic in his head that said he would surely die without additional care, he would. Probably. But it wasn’t Andrew’s problem. 

Except. Maybe. 

Maybe the soothsayer was right. Maybe the echos of prophecy were true. It seemed unlikely, and Andrew had refused to put any stock into it. But maybe. Maybe Neil was something, or somehow involved in something that would give his life meaning. 

It was a foolish thing to wonder. He didn’t even want it. He didn’t need people relying on him. Dragging him down. He was a witcher, unwilling as he had been in becoming one it made him stronger. He would survive. Best case scenario everything he knew would eventually wither and die. And he would wander the world alone, killing and being hated and cursed on sight. Until the poison in his veins was needed, then more killing then back to being cast out. And one day he would die. Alone, and unremembered. Unthanked and forgotten. He would have no grave, no one alive to say words at his death. He would become a rotting corpse where he fell eventually becoming dust. Scavenged on and picked apart by carrion birds and rats. That was what lay ahead of him, it was inevitable. Even if the soothsayer was right, that was still what laid ahead of him. That was still his end. 

What Neil might or might not be wouldn’t change that. Nothing could. And yet.

Neil dying here alone wouldn’t change anything either. So why not? 

Half not believing what he was doing, the stupidity of it, he searched the cave. Eventually finding a leather bag that held, presumably Neil’s belongings. A third dagger in addition to the one in Neil’s sleeve and boot, silver this time. A variety of papers and passes, presumably foraged. A miniature portrait of a woman, child, and man. Some scrolls written in the elder tongue. An empty wineskin. A ragged cloak, and a rather surprising amount of gold. 

Anything else Neil might have had was hidden so well that no one else would find it if he and his enhanced senses could not, and would be left behind. He put his own spare tunic onto Neil and wrapped him in a cloak before meditating for a few hours.

Neil was still unconscious and feverish when he finished and after trying to pour some more water down his throat he hauled him on top of Sir’s saddle, who seemed agitated at the extra burden, before mounting behind him and setting off in the direction of the foxes camp against his better judgment.

The journey would take two days, and if Neil managed to survive, perhaps he might get some answers. 

__________

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, tomorrow's is Neil's POV.
> 
> Artwork is by the wonderful [punchsomeoneforme-willyou](<a%20href=)  
> ">
> 
> Leave a comment to tell me what you think


	6. The Foxhole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil meets the rest of the Foxes, Neil's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for, implied/referenced rape/non-con for Andrew's past, its not explicit but it's still fairly clear what happened, referenced self-harm/self-harm scars, references to Neil's past

He was somewhere he shouldn’t be. Wearing clothes he should not be wearing. A canvas ceiling of a tent above him, below him a reasonably comfortable pallet.

Two people came in at some point, felt his forehead and his pulse, while he continued to feign unconsciousness until he eventually slipped back into sleep.

Next, he awoke he was not alone. 

“Witcher,” he spat, clawing at the face of the man pressing bandages to his abdomen. 

“Fuck. Stop that,” the man snarled, swatting his hands away. “Andrew’s my twin brother. My name’s Aaron, and I’m trying to help you, you stupid git.”

Neil stared at him for a second, once he actually looked the differences were obvious, this Aaron’s hair was brighter, warm, gold rather than silver in comparison to Andrew’s, he lacked a small scar that sliced across Andrew’s eyebrow, and he looked older, not much, unnoticeable at first but he had the beginnings of crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes were Andrew had none. 

He refused to speak to the man more than he needed to only stretch when directed and answering questions about his pain. An older elven woman came in shortly and discussed his wounds with him, checking his bandages. 

A few minutes after Aaron left Andrew entered the tent giving him a once over with an unreadable expression on his face.

Once the woman, Abby, as she had introduced herself left, Andrew moved to the vacated stool beside the pallet. 

“Where the fuck did you take me? If you think I'm just going to sit quiet and let you keep me captive until my father arrives just because you allowed a healer to look at me, you have made a grave mistake.”

“I am not under any illusions that you are going to be in any way cooperative, you’ve already tried stabbing Abby with scissors and attacking anyone trying to help you half a dozen times. However, I have no idea who your father is and I do not care. Consider me saving your scrawny ass a favor. You’re with the Foxes a Scoia’tael group in the forested mountains Northeast of Novigrad. You were bleeding out in a cave, out of your mind with infection. What kind of stupid idiot antagonizes men holding a knife to his gut hmm?” Andrew drawled sounding bored

Neil glared but kept his mouth shut, if they didn’t know who he was he wasn’t about to tell them. Maybe he could steal some supplies before he made his escape.

A tall figure pushed open the flap and entered the tent, the bright sunlight behind him making him unrecognizable as more than just a tall shadow until it fell closed again and Neil’s eyes adjusted. He immediately felt cold, Kevin Day, son of the late Duchess of Toussaint Kayleigh, a magical prodigy from the Imperial Academy. He was there the night before he ran.

Neil panicked, what was he doing this far north? Wasn’t he supposed to be appointed in some noble’s court by now? Neil touched his hair, an auburn strand falling into his eyes to his horror. He had reverted to his natural form sometime while he was unconscious, he was recognizable. He willed his hair and eyes back to a less noticeable color but it was too late. 

“Nathaniel?” Kevin asked, sounding shocked.

Neil immediately was on his feet and tried to bolt.

“Stop him,” Andrew said and Kevin did in an instant with a hastily cast spell freezing him in place.

“Well, well, well. Small world. One of you explain. Now.”

Kevin stared at him in silence, eyes wide and horrified. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

Twin daggers smoothly glided into Andrew’s hand from his arm bracers in an instant and he brandished them at the two of them. “That’s not an explanation I’m hearing. Answers now, before I have to use these.”

Kevin started stammering out his story, everything he knew. He didn’t say exactly who his father was, maybe he didn’t know and thought he was just another high ranked Nilfgaardian officer, but the rest, who he was running from, how he was supposed to train at the Nest, his escape with his mother, Kevin gave every last detail. 

Neil was still frozen by the spell and from horror as his secrets were spilled. 

“Is that all?” 

Kevin nodded.

“Very good. Now get out. Let up the spell too.”

As the spell lifted and Neil poised to run Andrew spoke again. “He won’t turn you in. He’s just as much a runaway as you are, avoids everything to do with Nilfgaard. You’re safe here.”

“Safe?” Neil spat out the word practically laughing. Safe was a completely foreign concept. 

“As you can be. The people here would protect you, and give warning in advance. Stay, for now, you’re still wounded, and will get yourself killed if you leave like this.”

“I’ve had worse.”

“So I noticed. Sit.”

Neil sat on the edge of the pallet. “Am I a prisoner then?”

“Does this look like a cell to you?”

“Cells come in many forms.”

“That they do. I won’t stop you from running. But you should stay. Anything Kevin left out?”

“Not your fucking turn.”

Andrew looked at him for a moment assessing face blank. Before sliding off the bracers on his arms and showing him his forearms. Neil blinked for a second. They were covered in thin horizontal lines, scars. Neat and orderly for a moment he assumed torture before noticing the angle and their position and realizing they must have been self-inflicted. “I saw your scars. It’s only fair.” 

Neil narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t ask. It doesn’t count as a turn.”

“Fair enough. Think of it as a gesture of _trust._ ” Andrew drawled mockingly. “I don’t like owing people. And I’ll give you two free ones, to make up for what Kevin spilled and seeing yours.”

“Who?”

“Most people would ask why, not who?”

“You’re a witcher, it’s not for blood magic. Someone hurt you or did something enough to make you take a blade to your own skin. Who?”

“It's a cruel world," Andrew spat.

"It's not the world that's cruel, it's the people in it."

Andrew nodded, "True,"

He waited for Andrew to answer his question and eventually he did. "Drake, a late witcher of the School of Cat. Liked, to get a bit _intimate_ with his guidance. I was the only new one in decades that survived as long as I did, so he had plenty of time to give me his personal undivided attention every single night. I outlasted him in the end.” Neil felt cold, in all the years on the run, all the tortures and pain he had faced he had been spared _that,_ at the least. The grin on Andrew’s face was cold, cruel, and hauntingly familiar, it lasted only a second before his face returned to apathy, as he twisted a dagger around letting the light catch and reflect around the tent 

“Next question?” Andrew sounded bored and uncaring, like what had happened didn’t matter, didn’t touch him even though he still bore the marks on his arms of what he had done to survive. Neil had heard Witchers were stripped of their emotions, of feeling, was this the result? Stripped of joy, sorrow, pain, regret, fear, so you were nothing more than a hollow vessel to kill, unbothered by the world, and what you survived?

“I’ll save it for later, but you owe me one” He had to think on it, word his questions carefully.

“So your mother? Kevin leave anything out?” 

“Mother’s dead. Buried her ashes on a beach in Skellige.” He’d stowed away on a merchants ship back to the continent. 

Andrew nodded letting out a small hum like he had expected that answer. 

Andrew extended a hand to him offering his faded leather bag. “I won’t prevent you from leaving but if you do you might never get to take your turn. I could die tomorrow.”

“Not a very good witcher if you do. And what do you care?”

“I don’t, I hate you. But you're a puzzle and I want to solve you. Consider it free advice.”

Neil scoffed, “Good luck,”

“Make a deal with me. Stay with the foxes, I'll protect you.”

"What do you want in return?"

"Honesty. And a relief from boredom. You're interesting."

"And if I stop being interesting?

"Better not."

* * *

Neil stayed. For some reason. There was no reason to go really. He was wounded, vulnerable. He got care here. A canvas tent roof over his head, a warm dry pallet to sleep on, food in his belly. It was more than he had had in years. And Andrew was right, the Foxes were a shield between him and his father’s men. They would have to cut them down first before they reached him. And any outsiders or humans in the vicinity were noticed and he knew where they were. He could leave at any time. But for now, there was no reason too.

After Andrew announced that he would be staying, the leader Wymack took him aside and showed him where the pantry, armory, and food reserves were kept. Giving him a ring of keys and telling him to take anything he needed. He was shocked. He was a stranger, all he had going for him was a word from Andrew and Kevin and he was literally handed the keys to rob them blind or destroy their food stores. He had gotten so used to having to steal and forage for food and anything he needed that being given free access to it was startling. After Dan took note of how he kept his bag with him at all times and wouldn't put it down, the succubus gave him another chest with a lock to put his things and the only copy of a key. They offered him access to their belongings while giving him the ability to block theirs to his.

He could use these Foxes and their idiotic kindness. They were led by the famed half-elf commando Wymack. They were outcasts among outcasts, leftovers from the scorching reach of the Empire, abandoned even from the rest of non-human society, what little remained. The rest were friendlier than Andrew and readily accepted him with little explanation as a poor half-elf, turned out, and unaccepted by the cruel world. All of them had some sob story or another. 

He quickly worked out there were two distinct groups among the inner circle and permanent residents of the camp, Andrew’s people and the rest, with the exception of the Elders Abby, Wymack, and Betsy who remained neutral even trying to smooth over conflicts. Andrew’s lot were the humans, Nicky and Aaron, Andrew’s cousin and brother respectively, Nicky cast out for the vaguest hums of magic under his skin and preference for other men by his Eternal Fire zealot parents. Aaron kept to himself, learning the healing arts from Abby but otherwise sticking to his family despite the clearly strained relationship with his brother. He wasn’t sure how they fit together with the rest of the Foxes other than Andrew wanted them here so they were.

Kevin, a quadroon mage, fit in Andrew’s group usually even though he was the long-lost son of Wymack, Neil figured he was too intolerable for the others to socialize with him on a regular basis. He was obnoxious at best, terrified of Nilfgaard after a falling out with Riko, and took every opportunity to lecture Neil on magic and try to train him. 

“They won’t be able to find you. My wards are some of the best in the world, they can’t trace you behind them.” Kevin boosted. He knew the risk Neil would take, what was after him, and he was still confident.

So Neil allowed it, it went against everything his mother taught him, but he had stopped following her other rules anyway. And he wanted it, badly, the feeling of magic humming in his veins, bubbling up under his skin. He had forced aside and ignored it for so long, that the pressure felt unstoppable. He still refused to practice it. He would listen to Kevin’s lectures, take notes, learn the theory but he drew the line at anything practical, save what burst out of him beyond his control when his temper ran high.

It was hard, he found he could only tolerate a few minutes of the lessons before they ended up in a shouting match with one of them storming off.

Renee, a dryad, and Betsy an aged ‘human’ scholar both somehow managed to move between the two groups and were tolerated, even friendly with Andrew. Neil wasn’t sure why, neither woman were particularly special on the surface. Something about the knowing look in Betsy’s eyes like she saw right through him and the flashes of darkness in Renee’s eyes, and the instinctive feelings of danger and unease around them put him off both women and he avoided them when he could. He didn't know what Betsy was, but she wasn't human despite all appearances, as good as she was at pretending. Andrew knew what she was, and didn't care just shrugging and telling him to ask Bee himself and she'd tell him if he wanted to know. Neil didn't. 

Second in command to Wymack was Dan, a succubus skilled with magic and a spear that made her a formidable warrior despite her past working in a brothel. Her lover Matt was an unsettlingly cheerful and friendly elf. 

Allison was a snooty elven woman whose family had managed to integrate their way into the merchants and city of Novigrad, their wealth enough to hold the church of the Eternal Fire at bay. She had given it all up to rough it in the woods with the foxes. She and Seth were either at each other’s throats or shoving their tongue down each other’s throats. Seth was nothing special himself, belligerent and rude; he didn’t know what Allison saw in him.

There were other elves too who came and went, other non-humans too on occasion. Rangers and scouts, havekars, even legitimate traders and craftsmen. One ranger, Erik, ended up in camp more often than not, as he was Nicky’s lover. Aaron always turned up his nose in disgust. He seemed like a spiteful little shit. Whenever Erik was away Nicky talked about him incessantly, going on about love and asking Neil about his own love life.

“I can’t believe someone as pretty of you has no love life.”

"Love only gets you killed. It makes you stupid and soft. It's just a trap." He snapped back warily. His mother had loved his father, in the beginning. Had loved Neil. And what had that gotten her? Death. And he'd loved her and what had that gotten him but slaps and bruises and pain when she was gone? This family of these foxes, their love for each other would be their downfall.

* * *

Unfortunately, he grew to like them, taking meals with them, laughing, conversing.

Andrew still stood apart, talking only to Renee, his family, Kevin, and Betsy and sparingly at that. 

Most of them seemed perplexed by the nature of his growing camaraderie with Andrew. They called him emotionless, a monster, they tolerated him for the skills and services he provided and in exchange gave shelter to Andrew and his family. He was a monster to them when he expressed no emotion, unfeeling, and when he released emotion, flaming fury and protectiveness they called him a monster again. Unhinged, volatile. There was no way for Andrew to win in their eyes, they seemed to have made their minds up as soon as they had met the Witcher. Yes, there had been that incident with the fisstech and Matt, as Nicky and Matt both recalled to him, but that had obviously been about Aaron and Andrew had helped Matt in the long run. He didn’t see why they still held a grudge. 

He unintentionally began to pull the two groups together, he didn’t give a damn about their arbitrary little divisions. Nicky seemed to get along with the others fairly well, aided by his relationship with one of their scouts, though Aaron seemed more aloof and apart, keeping to his family, Kevin, and Abby. Aaron only interacted with them when necessary or when someone was wounded. There was something between him and a nearby villager however, it was an open secret. Andrew clearly disapproved, but according to the whispers Aaron slinked off to see the herbalist at the closest village in the night and whenever Andrew was away hunting monsters. Katelyn the woman was called. 

He’d caught him at it once, slinking out of camp like a thief in the night, while he was on his way in the opposite direction on his way to meet Andrew. 

“Don’t tell Andrew,” Aaron had ordered like he had any type of authority Neil would respect. He just scoffed, and let Aaron pass without interference.

It seemed disloyal to him, after everything Andrew had done and gone through to carve out a home and a safe place for his family for his brother to blatantly disregard it and reject it for some woman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not going to lie this is probably my least favorite chapter because its mainly exposition and introductions aside from the beginning and interactions between Neil and Andrew, but its necessary and I hope it wasn't to awful.
> 
> Tomorrows chapter: Neil continues to be interesting and a puzzle


	7. An Honest Man Made of Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil is an interesting puzzle  
> Andrew POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for references to Neil and Andrew's backstories, brief mentions of nonconsensual body modifications, brief mention of drug use, mention of murder, references to past sexual content/masturbation but not explicit and more vague references to the past people Andrew's been with
> 
> Please let me know if there is anything I forgot to tag or you would like tagged/warned for

Andrew POV chapter.

Neil had stayed. He had been living with the Foxes over a month now and showed no signs of leaving. He was tolerable enough when he wasn't running his mouth off at someone and ranting. The Foxes had adopted him and treated him like a lost child or puppy immediately adoring him.

He was nothing and no one. An illusion and a glamour, fine as mist but real somehow. Every word out of his mouth seemed a lie, a facade, yet Andrew had never met someone as honest. He was made up of half-truths and half-lies. He could tell, Neil didn't always tell the whole truth, just a part of it but was still more brutally honest than anyone else. A lie could be more true, more real, than the convenient and agreed-upon truth. He was an illusion, a smokesick dream, the result of mushrooms or twisted magic, something out of the Cave of Tribulations. He couldn't be real.

But still, there he was. Sometimes he wondered if he was a sick and twisted side effect of the mutations, a hallucination. He’d hallucinated when going through the trials but those visions had repelled him, not drawn him in like a stupid mouth to a flame. 

He made himself useful, doing things around camp, accompanying Andrew to clear out infestations of Nekkers and Drowners. He spent about an hour a day getting into screaming matches with Kevin over magic, fifteen minutes of which were spent on actual magic and the remaining forty-five arguing until one of them stomped off frustrated.

He was unflinching, in their question game each night. It had morphed into something more casual Neil offering up information freely more and more, somehow Andrew found himself doing the same. No matter what he told Neil he accepted it, he made no moral judgments. He wasn’t so innocent himself, no matter what the others believed. He told him how he had found Nicky and Aaron. About his deal with Kevin. And Neil told him about the places he’d been, scraps of information about his childhood.

And he was pretty. Distractingly so, all the others noticed. Flirted with him, Neil remained indifferent to it, even to Dan. Nicky had immediately jumped on his pretty face and pestered Neil about his preferences once he keyed on to the fact that Neil didn’t oggle Dan or Allison. He had pretended not to listen to Neil’s response. Neil wasn’t interested in anyone.

This was further confirmed when Dan’s sisters and brother from her years in the brothel visited, fellow succubi. While practically everyone else trailed after them in a trance, tongues lolling, Neil hadn’t reacted. At first, it had filled Andrew with something he refused to identify as hope, at Neil’s indifference to the enchanting women, but then the incubus arrived a day later than the rest and Neil hadn’t spared him a second glance. Nicky, meanwhile, tripped all over himself to attend to the man’s every need, and Kevin offered to enchant jewelry for him to Andrew’s not so surprised observation. Several bets were won that way. Even Andrew had to admit the man was stunning, alluring, and otherworldly, couldn’t help but stare, though Andrew would never do something about it, there could be no control and more like being drugged, hypnotized, or struck with some sort of lust potion, the attraction magical in nature, not real, and thus not at all tempting.

He didn’t care. He couldn’t, he had told himself a thousand times that he didn’t care about anyone, he made deals, kept his people safe that was it. He wanted nothing to tie himself to others. He got by just fine on his own. Willing tavern keeps with their hands tied back, no risk of them touching him in any way, and his own hand that was all he needed.

So what if Neil respected his boundaries? Rarely needed to be told no, and once he was never questioned, demanded an explanation and stuck by that no. He only told him once that he didn’t like to be touched and Neil never did again. Even Nicky after all these years still tried to pull him in for a hug and got a wounded look when Andrew pushed him away and tried to stab him.

So what if the way he leaned in to inhale the tobacco burning in his pipe made Andrew's gut lurch? And the way his hair looked like flames when he allowed the red to show, and his eyes like ice or burning blue fire. A study in contrasts, fire, and ice, cold and cruel, warm and kind. _Duality_. So many of the pieces fit, it was just a coincidence.

So what if he said stupid and impossible things.

_An honest man, made of lies._

* * *

“They call you a monster. But that couldn’t be farther from the truth, everything you do is for your family. You protect them. It's obvious. Why don’t they see that?” alone at night sitting by a fire a distance from the main camp. Fireflies illuminating the wood in the distance.

“I don’t care what they think of me.”

“You say you don’t care about anything.”

“I don’t. I want nothing and no one. I made a deal to protect some of those idiots that's all. And it's a convenient place to rest my head at night." 

It was true. But it wasn't. 

Emotions were hard for Andrew long before the Witchers fucked with them. Stripped them away, leaving blank nothingness. Enhanced them, forcing them on him leaving blinding fury, blood boiling madness. Infusing him with indifference and hate in equal measures.

Too many experiments twisting him into something wrong. It made him strong yes, but uncontrollable. Even by the standards of other witchers, he'd met. From other schools. He felt nothing and everything all at once. Neil was infuriating, fury he knew, could deal with, but the rest was hauntingly unfamiliar. Neil made him feel too much like he was falling down a cliff air rushing past his ears, down, down and down. When would he hit the bottom of the ravine? All Andrew knew was that he had always been afraid of heights. And here he was falling.

Neil was impermanent, fleeting. Yet, he was a constant in Andrew's head. When he ventured out alone, it wasn't the foxes he hurried back to return too. Neil had been joining him lately anyway, not always. But it made the path, the monotonous hunt, less tedious with a running commentary insulting the villagers.

He was interesting that was all. A bundle of mysteries and lies, honesty and transparency, understanding and confusion, all wrapped up in a pretty shiny package. He would get bored of him soon. Everything bored him eventually.

* * *

Neil had a habit of staring. Something too honest and unguarded in his eyes for Andrew to accept it as truth. The cut of his collarbone and visible under the unlaced neckline of his roughspun tunic. It was too big for him. Slipping off a shoulder. The way his curls glinted in the firelight the surprising ferocity of his icy gaze

"Don't look at me like that," he muttered pushing on his cheek to turn it away with his index finger.

"How do you want me to look at you?"

Andrew scowled and stared into the flames. It was easier to pretend the flush on his face was because of the proximity to the scorching heat. “I hate you, 89 percent of the time I want to kill you"

"What about the other eleven?"

"I always hate you. Eleven percent of the time my greatest desire isn’t flinging you off a cliff."

He did, he hated him. So much, hated the way he felt around him. The confusion, unfamiliar pull. He loathed it, the lack of control.

“That wasn’t an answer,”

"Your earrings." He muttered avoiding the question and tapping his pipe on a log to dislodge the burnt tobacco before refilling it. For what could he say? Don’t look at me? Like I matter? Like I mean something? Or don’t stop, always look at me like that? It was the last nagging piece that didn’t fit.

"What of them?"

"They're not silver.” A statement technically, not a question.

“No, they are.” A shadow flitted across his face.

“Silver burns you,” 

“Not immediately, I can usually handle something for a few seconds without it hurting, but if you hold something against my skin for too long, it does,” He rubbed his shoulder where Andrew knew the Nilfgaardian insignia was burned into his flesh.

“Why do you have them then?” A question.

Neil clenched his fists touching his ears lightly, when Andrew focused on them in the dying light he could see faint discolored scar tissue behind each stud, “My father, he wanted me to have more resistance to silver, didn’t like my mother’s monster blood. He was the real monster. Most of the brands were from him, he ordered my ears pierced, it hurt, it burned for days. I wasn’t allowed to remove them, after a week I stopped being able to feel anything.”

“Hmmm,” Andrew didn’t say anything or react, he probably should, a normal human might have, but he didn’t, couldn’t. But Neil let out a breath and relaxed. _Clad in that which burns him._ The last piece. 

How hysterical?

Firelight casting him in burnished gold, illusions cast aside when it was just the two of them, auburn hair like jumping flames, red as blood. Eyes soft, glowing electric blue, magic, peering up at him from where he rested his head on his arms folded over his knees.

“Staring,” He murmured again. Neil was a pretty puzzle, impossible, and untouchable. Unknowable.

“What do you want?”

“Right now? Some fucking peace and quiet.” He muttered, blowing smoke into Neil’s face. The idiot just leaned in and inhaled. What a freak.

“In general, out of life, the future, anything,”

“Nothing.” It was true, and then again it wasn’t. What was truth anyway, but a series of lies people chose to believe because it made things easier?

Neil hummed thoughtfully but didn’t press.

* * *

“If I didn’t know better, I would think you had made a friend,”

“Hush dryad. Go back to your trees.” He growled at Renee as she stepped out of the forest and stood next to him, and gestured towards Neil.

“I was not always so you know. I was like them once.” She nodded to Allison, where the elf was laughing with Neil and all the other idiots gathered round and watching Seth get into yet another shouting match with Kevin.

“Worse. Blood in my history on my hands.” Andrew gave a grunt of acknowledgment that he was still listening, more than he would offer most. “But I was saved. Everyone needs something more. It's different for everyone, a person, a belief, an ideal. What is yours?”

“I have my deals,” Keep Kevin safe from Riko. Stand with the Foxes if it came to that, in exchange for asylum. Keep Aaron safe from his mother and any other women, just them against the world. Just the reminder made him bitter, he had kept his end, Aaron barely bothered to hide he wasn’t. Did he honestly think Andrew was fooled?

“They will die. Age. Nicky and Aaron. Are you hoping magic will extend their lives? It’s unlikely Nicky maybe, he has a spark, faint but it’s there, Aaron won't leave that girl. Nicky has Erik. What do you have then? What will you have when they are gone?”

He knew it, Aaron already looked older than him. They would die, and he would not. Alone until he would die violently with no one, against some monster for an ungrateful village of backward folk, who would not mourn him in the slightest. “The path,”

“You don't believe in it. Certainly not anymore,”

“No. I don't. I never did.” The teachings at the School of Cat were hollow at best, paid assassins, gold, and power, indiscriminate murder, and violence. 

Neil wasn’t real, you can’t base a future on something so ephemeral. Can’t build a house on mist. He kept his deal, he would give him that. He stayed interesting and honest, as honest as a liar could be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone likes this chapter, it was super fun to write.  
> next chapter, the foxes experience a loss


	8. Eyes Gold Empty or Manic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil is too dangerous to stay with the foxes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter for mild violence, minor character death, references to drug use, and implied/referenced child abuse

He plunged the borrowed silver dagger into the neck of a water hag. 

"Duck," he heard a voice shout behind him and immediately did.

A flash of silver whipped through the air missing him by inches before embedding itself in the chest of a drowner lunging for him.

He pulled the daggers out and handed them back to Andrew wiping the grime off the blades. They both disappeared into one of his bracers.

They made their way back to camp with few words between them but companionable silence.

They had fallen into a pattern. Neil would accompany Andrew occasionally in clearing out monsters that had settled near to the camp. He spent the days with the other foxes, somehow they had each wormed their way into his heart and he found himself caring about them.

They continued their game each night, which somehow turned into late-night talks, smoking, and secrets exchanged. Neither of them really kept track of who’s turn it was anymore. Andrew told him of things he had faced, monsters and men, which Neil knew to be the same and the odd good person or two. And Neil in turn told him of the places he had been, the people and things he had seen, stories of scars, and stories of laughter. 

And when the world got to be too much and the past and his fears were closing in around him and he felt he couldn’t breathe; Andrew was there. With a hand on the back of his neck, level headed, solid, a reminder to breathe. He was immovable, stable, he was never frantic or pitying, he took things as they were and it was a balm to all of Neil’s frayed nerves. 

They were two men doomed to die, he felt a strange pull towards Andrew as he watched his lips curl around the pipe, sending an odd shiver through him, and he leaned in as Andrew exhaled a curl of smoke.

“Staring,” he muttered, setting down the pipe. 

"Why do you tolerate me but not the others?"

“I hate you, doesn’t mean I wouldn’t suck your cock.” 

“You want me?” The air left Neil’s lungs as if he had been thrown from a horse or punched in the gut.

“I hate you.”

“But you just said --”

“Nothing will come of it. I’m self-destructive, not stupid. And you don’t want anybody.” 

That was true, wasn’t it? Neil had never wanted someone that way before, never thought about it with another person, or noticed people that way. It didn’t completely repulse him, but he never had any interest, his mother nails in his scalp and hissing in his ear came to his mind whenever he thought of it, or someone.

But Andrew. Something was different. His cheeks warmed at the thought. He had noticed little details. The corded muscle and veins in Andrew’s arm, strong enough to hold him up. How his hair shone silver in the light of the moon and flickering fire, fine like it would feel like silk if he touched it, the small braids he wore on occasion. The sharp wide cut of his jaw, how he relaxed it sometimes when it was just the two of them. How his eerie cat-like eyes seemed like they were poured from liquid gold and burnished with flames. How they were hard and fierce when fighting but softer and gentle when he thought no one was looking or he was brushing his horse. How despite the roughness and harshness of his features and scars his lips looked soft. His eyes were gold, and whether they were empty or manic they held him; kept him steady through all of his panic. 

He didn’t want anyone, that was true. No man or woman had never caught his eye that way or held any interest. Was Andrew the exception?

He didn’t respond stunned, with his world spinning on its axis suddenly feeling unbalanced and dizzy and Andrew just nodded letting out a dry scoff. “That’s what I thought.”

Neil wasn’t sure what he had just confirmed and didn’t say anything, still lost in his own head. And eventually, Andrew got up from his spot at the fire with a soft grunt of goodnight before heading to the shelter he shared with his brother and cousin. 

* * *

Seth was missing. Neil didn't particularly like the elf, but he was a Fox. He and Allison had been in the forest the night before. Something happened, when she woke up he was gone.

Something was wrong.

The hairs on the back of Neils's neck stood on end. No matter what he did he couldn't shake the feeling of unease.

He hoped it was not related to Seth's disappearance. For Allison's sake.

* * *

They heard Allison's wail of anguish from half a league away when they found him.

Throat slit. A bag of drugs, fisstech near the body. It was enough for some to murmur to themselves of a trade with fisstech dealers gone wrong. Seth had been known to dabble.

Not when he and Allison were together those according to her howls of pain and swearing of vengeance. She wouldn’t be consoled by any of them. 

Neil took one look at the Nilfgaardian coins near the body and the torn page with half the butchers seal in red wax.

It was enough to know the foxes were wrong. He did this.

He caused this.

The tears. The mournful wails. The silence around the fire. The empty space where Seth once sat. Dan's grip on Matt's arm as she turned her head into his chest for a moment. Allison’s red and dull eyes, jaggedly shorn hair from where she had cut it off. 

Love. Allsion and Seth had loved one another and his death broke her. She was shattered, hair dull, jagged and uneven in her face, the golden locks tossed in with Seth’s funeral pyre, eyes red-rimmed, but hard. If she knew, knew Neil caused this, would she still offer him the simple gestures of friendship? Exchanges of gossip, offers, and arguments to let her do something about his hair and general appearance? He doubted it. Her lover was dead because of him. 

Even Nicky shed tears. It seemed pointless. Seth hadn't been kind to them in life, so why was he so missed in death? Neil had no place here. He would die and they'd mourn again. They would die one by one if he stayed and each loss would make them weaker and more vulnerable.

He approached Andrew later that night alone at the fire. He hadn't reacted more than a cursory inspection of Seth's corpse at his death. He took one look at Neil's face and scoffed.

"Predictable," 

"What?"

"Your reaction. How boring. Stop pretending you cared."

"Someone died," he said, dropping the look of practiced sympathy he had put upon around the others anyway. Sad, but not too much.

"And who's fault is that?” Andrew looked at him, eyes boring into his soul and Neil flinched a little.

"I… I don't know."

"Liar." Andrew accused

Neil stood there in silence as what little he had constructed fell apart.

“Not very interesting is it? A liar and a rabbit. Runaway rabbit. Run.” 

Andrew didn’t mean it, Neil tried for a second to convince himself. He was just sore as Seth's death caused strain in his deal with Wymack. His promise to help protect them, and handle threats of creatures in the wood. Keep them alive.

"Leave," Andrew ordered, fumbling with his pipe hands shaking. "Your fake mourning is boring me. Come back when you've got something interesting to contribute rabbit." 

Neils's gut dropped like a stone. That was it. He wasn’t interesting anymore. There were no ties keeping him here. He should leave. Neil had brought death to this group. He saw how they suffered. How many more would fall, little accidents before the butcher reached him. Was he still willing to let them fall in his stead?

He stared at Andrew who was still fumbling with his pipe. "Go away," he snapped.

Neil flinched and retreated to his makeshift tent. Andrew wanted him gone. So he'd leave.

It didn't matter. He had grown too attached; it was time he moved on. The Foxes’ love for one another was breaking their group apart. Pain and heartbreak. His presence would only bring more. It had ended one life already. Who was next? Dan? Matt? Nicky? _Andrew_? 

He gathered his things in his rucksack and left. He took the armor that the foxes had cobbled together for him and stole some rations for his journey. They wouldn't mind, and even if they did he would never see them again, so it didn't matter. He kept the keys. He couldn't bring himself to give them up, his first bit of security in so long, he traced their outline into his palms and stowed them in his sack. It didn't matter that he would likely never see the chests and doors that they unlocked again. It was as close to a home as he ever had.

He left a note for Andrew. Out of courtesy where his bedroll once lay. 

He forced himself not to look back. He'd get on a boat, head to an outer island in Skellige, spend a few months roaming the islands to throw them off his trail before making his way back to the mainland and North again. After that maybe Zerrikania, he hadn’t been since he and his mother first ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The art for this chapter is by the wonderful [punchsomeonforme-will you](https://punchsomeoneforme-willyou.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Title for this chapter is kinda loosely inspired by that tiktok audio "Eyes blue like the Atlantic, And I am going down like the titanic" except for for Andrew it would be "Eyes gold, empty or manic, keep me steady through all the panic" (kinda stupid but I couldn't get it out of my head in that tune  
> Also if anyone is curious for Neil it would be "Eyes blue ice and electric, Falling deep as the Atlantic"
> 
> Next Chapter: Andrew POV, Neil is gone


	9. Sorry I couldn't stay interesting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Sorry I couldn't stay interesting_
> 
> Neil is gone, Andrew POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: destructive thinking/disassociation, references to scars and Andrew and Neil's backstories, Violence/blood, vaguely implied sexual content

“Where's Neil?” Nicky asked, approaching him, the sun was already high in the sky.

Andrew shrugged. He wasn’t his keeper.

"He shouldn't wander off on his own, whoever killed Seth might come back," Nicky muttered worriedly. The rabbit was a survivor, he could likely handle whoever took Seth’s life, or at the very least run away fast enough. He didn’t respond and kept sharpening his blades. 

An hour later Nicky returned a grim look on his face. He approached, opened his mouth to speak, and then stopped.

"Spit it out." He ordered

"Neil's gone."

"What do you mean he's gone?" He demanded, forcing himself to pay attention.

"He left. He took his things, about a week's worth of rations too. He left a note. I think it's for you."

Andrew snatched the scrap of paper out of his hand, read it, before crumpling it.

_Sorry, I couldn't stay interesting._

“What else?” He demanded. Because that couldn't be it.

“There’s nothing --”

Andrew stormed past him shoving him out of the way. He went to Neil’s tent. His things were gone. The bedroll gone, a few trinkets and torn clothes he hadn't bothered to keep all that was left. Just the note crushed in his fist. Fuck.

_Sorry I couldn't stay interesting_

Andrew hadn't meant it. When he told Neil to leave. Not like that, a _misunderstanding_ his lips curled into a sneer at the bitter irony of that word. He’d just meant for right now, not that night. He'd been angry. Bitter at his failure. What had killed Seth had likely been a human, or even another elf, but still.

He hadn’t meant--

But Neil was gone. It didn’t matter.

Neil left. Neil ran. Like the rabbit he always was. 

Still. Andrew had done this. 

He remembered the flash of pain across Neils face at his words. Wounded. Hurt. He’d done that. He should feel bad about it, should have apologized then and there. But he didn’t because all he was was emptiness and fury. Numb. And he never apologized, no time for regrets. 

Nicky caught up to him, "He couldn't have gone far in just the night, he didn't take a horse, you could catch up to him easily. You are the best tracker we’ve got and--"

"No." Andrew cut Nicky off. "He made his choice. It's done."

"But--"

"It wasn't an invitation for discussion." He growled and walked away. He found Sir and saddled him up.

Tightening the girth.

Renee stepped out of the trees, "Are you going after him? He went that way," she pointed and Andrew shook his head.

He swung a leg over the saddle mounting. "I'm going on the path. I'll be back in a few weeks."

He spared a glance for the faint trail Neil had left and spun Sir around with a press of his leg and slight pull of the reins and went galloping off in the opposite direction.

* * *

He was empty inside. 

It was monotonous. Contract, blood death repeat. It had been like this before, but somehow it was worse. 

He hadn’t expected to feel Neil's absence so keenly whenever he was at the camp.

So he avoided it. Going out for longer stretches of time, multiple contracts stringing together before he returned. It wasn't worth it when he was returning to something that wasn't there anymore.

Neil ran. Like the cowardly rabbit, he was. But Andrew had pushed him. Was telling him to leave and saying he was boring the only reason? Or had revealing his attraction to him been a factor too? He swore to himself that he wouldn’t be like them. Never. He should have said nothing.

He’d always known Neil was something ephemeral that could vanish in an instant. 

The soothsayer was wrong; he wouldn't burn the world to get him back. That was his choice. Neil made his choice. Left. He would respect that. He wouldn’t take away that choice.

Neil left, and the only world burning was Andrew’s own. Andrew was the only thing burning in Neil’s wake and it wouldn’t do a damn thing to bring him back.

* * *

Neil was gone and he felt hollow. It was too quiet. The others kept their distance. Nothing changed in that regard, he didn't need it. Their inclusion. He’d let himself be pulled in before, on occasion, lured in by Neil’s pretty smile and laughing eyes. Craving it. Lusting after him like an addict.

But he had never felt lonely before, perhaps it was because he had always been alone.

Bee approached him, the high vampire was too observant, too watchful, she saw everything and had had centuries, perhaps millennia, to observe humanity and learn their patterns and ticks. She could even see through him. 

"You miss him,” She observed, uncritical, just making note of it, like one might of the weather. He hated it.

"He's nothing. No one. He doesn't mean anything.”

“And yet…” A ghost of a smile appeared on her face like she was laughing at him, and yet not at the same time. She was the only one who would dare, he doubted even he would be able to kill her. It was a lucky thing she had decided to live so peacefully and coexist among them.

"He made his choice. Our deal was done." Even if Andrew hadn’t meant to end it. Even if deep down he knew he would have kept protecting Neil anyway. 

* * *

The foxes were desolate without their little runaway. Worried about him, fretting. After a month they accepted that Neil wasn't going to be back any day now and talk of him died down. Still, every time he heard Neil mentioned in the camp it felt like a short stab or prick of a needle. They blamed him for his departure. They weren't entirely wrong. But they didn't know Neil, not really. Hadn't seen the darkness under the practiced picture of innocence, hadn't known his runaway rabbit nature. He could take care of himself. 

He silenced the reminder in his head of all the scars covering Neil's body. All the close calls. His mouthy antagonism that would have gotten him killed by strangers, not even the people hunting him if Andrew hadn't found him and gotten him care.

It didn't matter. He wasn't his problem anymore. He hated him. Ninety percent of the time. He didn't want to think about the other ten. 

His traitor brother still thought he was fooling him. That Andrew did notice, he snuck off to visit that herbalist whenever Andrew's back was turned. He thought he was the only one who knew the girl's little secret. Her curse.

She hadn’t killed anyone yet or was good at hiding it so he let it be. Didn't kill her if only to spare the whining and judgment that would result from her death. And insured Aaron was always under his watchful eye during the full moon and thus could do nothing stupid. He would lose Aaron in the end regardless, either to time or the wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Kevin was insufferable, as was everyone else. He couldn't even stand Roland when he paid him a visit, kicking him out of the room halfway through when he would not shut up and dared to ask questions about Neil. 

* * *

He was on a hunt, and things had gone south, a bandit camp, their pet rock troll, and caged monsters living side by side. A recipe for disaster.

A sword arched towards him, and the troll lept at him from behind. A rib snapped from a bludgeoning blow and a burning slash that he was unable to completely dodged cut him open. And Andrew knew with a moment of terrifying clarity that this was it. This is where he died. Ironic, wasn’t it? So afraid of outliving his family and them dying off one by one and here he was dying first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry  
> I promise tomorrow's chapter won't end on as big of a cliffhanger


	10. Returning Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil runs into someone in the forest  
> The beginning steps back in time a bit and has Neil’s life after leaving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this resolves the cliffhangers on the past two chapters.
> 
> Warnings for: Implied/referenced torture/injury/Riko (vague), depictions of violence, graphic descriptions of blood/injury/gore,  
> As always let me know if there is anything I left out or anything people would like tagged.
> 
> I can be found on tumblr at [mortalsbowbeforeme](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/mortalsbowbeforeme)

Neil was captured, within a week from leaving the foxes camp, by a neurotic and mad sorcerer. A one inked on his face mirroring Kevins. Riko Moriyama, the cast-off second son of the Moriyama’s of Nilfgaard. He was still stung and unbalanced from the loss of the foxes and unused to a life constantly on the lookout, he let his guard down and paid for that mistake. 

The man had been irate and delusional, convinced he would lead Riko to Kevin, convince Kevin to return to him. So sure of himself and his torturous methods he neglected to inform his father of his capture, or anyone else in the Empire. He was easy to rile up with comments about his family's disregard for him, Kevin’s obvious superiority, and pretending he had never heard of him. 

“Oh, Riko Moriyama? You were Kevin’s assistant once right? Sorry, he didn’t keep you on, but pity for you endless and intricate daddy issues can only get you so many concessions, in the end, you just weren’t good enough. Keep at it though, I am sure there’s a village out there in need of a hedge witch of some sort, or try herbalism, I’d suggest midwifery but you obviously don’t have the mental or emotional capabilities for such a delicate thing.”

That little comment hadn’t ended well and cost him a few inches of skin flayed from his body and quite a lot of blood. The indigent and red look on his face made it and all the comments that followed worth it. 

He managed to escape in the night after a week thanks to the help of his deliberately ineffective, and unattentive guard. Another mage, servant more like, inked with a three. He hoped Jean hadn’t been punished harshly for his negligence but he doubted it. He’d run with a sudden rush of magic and power surging through him, in a flash of bright light he was suddenly miles away. It had happened before while running from Andrew the first time, he couldn’t control it but it helped him then and it helped him now. 

He left the encounter bloody and bruised but intact. Hobbling his way onto a ship, stowing away in the underbelly. 

* * *

Steffon had made his way through Skellige for a few months, changing names, faces, and stories more frequently than he changed his clothes, before returning back to the mainland with a stolen horse. A pony really, a rugged thing, with shaggy hair, hardy and sturdy. He found himself giving her apples and stolen sweets more often than he should. It reminded him of someone he used to know. 

_Andrew._ He’d always smuggled choice bits to Sir. He wondered how he was doing? Was he safe? Alive? Had they ever found Seth’s killer? Was he happy? Had he found someone else? How were the foxes?

They were stupid and foolish things to wonder. He had no claim to them, especially not Andrew. Nor did he have any holds on Andrew’s affections. He missed them. He missed Andrew. The stability, the security. The safety he had felt whenever he was around. Even in the midst of an attacking nest of Arachas or some other monster he always felt safer, with Andrew than he ever had on his own. Even with his mother. Andrew was like a rock, something stable and concrete, immovable. Something strong enough to hold him up without struggle, an island that could withstand the harshest storms. Cat eyes that burned like fire, glowing in the night that he saw every night when he closed his eyes. 

He knew what this was. Had had enough time to ponder it alone.

Love.

Stupidity more like. 

Leaving hadn’t made it fade.

The horse helped. A dismal replacement for the affections and steady companionship of people but a replacement nonetheless. Talked to her and pretended she was listening. He’d kept her, even though he should have abandoned her at every new location to avoid being followed. 

He couldn’t. Life with the Foxes and their sudden absence had made him crave stability and warmth. So the damp, warm fur of a horse was as close as he’d get.

They’d managed to survive a few close encounters, bandits, his father’s men. Leaving a narrow scar on the animal's rump, and a couple healed over slashes to his back. All healed luckily enough. And the perpetrators far too dead to report back any useful information about him. 

He didn’t hate being Steffon, no more than he hated being anyone else. But he missed being Neil. 

He still was deep down. Couldn’t let go of the Foxes, couldn’t let go of Andrew, couldn’t let go of Neil either. Couldn’t let go of the stupid horse once he’d seen its original owners beat after losing a race because it shied from wolves leaping out in the woods.

The horse was fast and sturdy. Even though its eyes were nothing like Andrew’s they reminded him of the Witcher for some reason, so Steffon kept the stupid animal.

* * *

And then Steffon saw Andrew and just like that he was Neil again. 

* * *

Neil did not know why he acted, why he jumped in, put his own life at risk, why he continued to pull the Witcher away, and tended to his wounds. Something in him could not bear the thought of Andrew dying, especially not alone. Was it a sense of debt? For helping him, healing him, and taking him to the foxes rather than leaving him to die or turning him in to his father? He tried to pretend that’s all it was, as he heaved Andrew’s dead weight onto Sir and tied his own horse to the reins.

He swung himself up behind Andrew in the saddle and tried to steady him while placing his hands on him as little as possible. He knew he didn’t like to be touched. And he knew why. He only got a dull groan of pain in response to his question of permission. He hated putting his hands on Andrew while he was barely conscious like this, if he had been he probably would have been met with a fist to the gut if he was lucky, and that fist holding a knife if he wasn’t. 

Witchers were strong, the mutations made them so, they healed faster, better, were less susceptible to wounds and disease. They could survive things no human could. Andrew was already proof of that ten times over. Hell, Neil was proof himself, of what someone could endure and survive with only rudimentary medical knowledge. _Still, the howl of pain Andrew had let out as Neil dug out a snapped off claw and shrapnel leaking poison into his body before packing the wound with stinging herbs to the wound to help with blood clotting haunted him._

_“Which potion -- what do I do? Andrew--” He shouted trying to to keep him awake._

_“Red bottle,” Andrew rasped, barely coherent before slipping into unconscious once more, after another shout of pain as Neil put pressure on the gaping wound in his gut over top the herbs, and hands turning red and slick with blood_

_The herbs helped but they burned like the wound was being cauterized or worse. It would heal better this way. But it always hurt_ . _Andrew’s eyes were mostly closed, his head lolled to one side he wasn’t conscious or at least not capable of responding, his chest heaving as he wrapped the wounds, only to have the bandages turn red with seconds._

He wondered if one of the witcher potions might do anything to numb the pain, but he couldn’t recognize any of them well enough to risk giving one to Andrew. Even the one he had managed to get down his throat, that Andrew indicated was for healing, felt suspect from the way it made the veins turn black under Andrew’s skin and the sickly hue he had taken on. Though the color could be from blood loss.

He set his pace as fast as he could manage, without risking Andrew falling towards the direction he remembered the Foxes camp laid. He prayed to the gods that they hadn’t relocated further north.

He tried to continue pretending that it was only a debt that drove him, see Andrew to the Foxes, to someone who could tend to his wounds. That he would be gone before Andrew even awoke, no attachments. It was as much of a lie as every single one of his names. He could not ignore the sheer and utter terror, unlike anything he had ever experienced even after a decade on the run, he felt as he watched the blade make an arc towards Andrew’s unprotected neck, missing cutting his throat open by inches, instead leaving only a small scratch. Nor could he pretend he didn’t hear the voice in his head that screamed no, not him, never him, he cannot die when Andrew fell after a deep slash to his abdomen. He couldn’t forget the raw and unbridled power that surged out of him killing the attackers instantly at his rage. The panic as he pressed his hands to the dark blood rapidly bubbling up from the deep gash. 

* * *

Andrew survived the ride until they made camp that first night. He was feverish, a part of Neil wanted to ride through the night but he didn't trust that they wouldn't run into trouble or that Andrew would be able to stay in the saddle.

He made them a rudimentary camp and tried to make Andrew drink water from the wineskin. He came too once, a moment of lucidity in the fever.

"Stay," he groaned, grip tightening around his arm, as he made to return the skin to his pack.

"Andrew," he gasped, turning back towards him to meet gold eyes hazy with pain.

"Stay," Andrew muttered again before his eyes slipped back shut.

* * *

Andrew survived the journey, Neils haphazard aid enough to prevent him from bleeding out before they reached the foxes camp. He had tossed the reins to their horses to a startled Dan and carried Andrew into Abbys medical tent. Shouting for help. He hadn’t spoken to any of them, offered any explanation for his disappearance and sudden reappearance. Staying at Andrew’s side. He had asked him to stay. And he would until Andrew woke and told him to leave. So he did, refusing to leave even for a moment, only giving Abby the information she needed, to treat him and holding fast to his bedside despite all the attempts to move him. 

Andrew came too briefly in the night, fever breaking. Eyes meeting his own, his face still drawn and tight. "Neil?" He murmured like it was a question.

"I'm here," he told him, moving closer.

"Stay," he told him, still groggy.

"Okay," he answered and Andrew nodded closing his eyes going back to sleep.

He had already failed, already succumbed. Love was a weakness, he knew that. But it was too late, leaving had only made the matter worse. He did not think he could survive losing Andrew or leaving again with the knowledge that Andrew too would one day die, wounded and alone in a forest with no one to save him, just as Neil would. Perhaps this way he wouldn’t die alone.

Which is why when Andrew truly came too and was fully lucid again without the haze of sleep-inducing herbs and grabbed Neil’s collar hauling him close with a soft murmur of yes or no, Neil said yes without hesitation, not even knowing what he was saying yes too and Andrew tugged him forward, crushing their lips together. 

His mouth was harsh and furious against his own. Like it was a fight, and Neil didn't care very much if he won or lost. Andrew used his grip on Neil to drag himself up to a sitting possession and dug a hand into his hair. Neil didn’t know what to do with his hands. He knew Andrew didn’t like being touched but he didn’t want to fall on top of him by mistake. So he was careful not to rest his weight on Andrew or grab him, one hand braced on the edge of the bed and the other limp at his side, no idea what to do with it.

Andrew found his wrist and put it behind his back. "No touching," he growled against his lips and Neil nodded fervently as Andrew smothered his agreement with his lips.

Love was a selfishness too, it was a selfish thing, to want someone to need them, to stay even though you knew it would end badly, that your presence could only bring ruin. He had forgotten what it felt like to be touched when someone wasn’t trying to hurt him, it was surreal. He understood why his mother had been furious if he so much as looked at anyone, why she beat him black and blue if she found out he kissed someone. This was a distraction, intoxicating, and more addictive than any drug. Only a second and it was his greatest liability and he would do anything to get another fix.

After a few more moments Andrew drew back and pushed him back with a hand against his chest. Before falling back against his pillows breathing heavy, his face flushed. 

"Abby said to fetch her if you came too. She'll bring you milk of the poppy if you want. It'll help with the pain." She had not given anymore in over a day, unfamiliar with human turned witcher physiology, Andrew rarely let anyone treat his injuries. Even his own brother.

"No. Don't need it. Witchers heal faster. I don't want anything dulling my mind."

"Okay." He fiddled at the fraying edge of his tunic's sleeve. Andrew had kissed him. That was new. Where did they stand now? Andrew had wanted him gone. And he would leave again, in an instant, as much as it would feel like ripping his heart out again. But Andrew had told him to stay. Again. But he'd been delirious and wounded. And--

"Make a new deal with me," Andrew croaked from where he lay

"I don't think you are in a position to be making deals with anyone." Andrew scowled.

"I can protect you." He ground out stubbornly.

"No, no more deals." 

Andrew looked pained, he wasn't sure if it was from his response or from his injuries."Neil,"

"I don't want there to be a deal between us. That's not what I want. Not anymore." It was as close to an admission as he could give. His voice felt scraped raw and bleeding from the unspoken truth behind his words. The meaning showed through anyway.

"Will you stay?" Andrew’s gaze was piercing.

"Yes," his voice almost broke, "I want to. If you'll allow it. But if you tell me to leave I’ll go."

“Then stay,”

“I will,” Something flickered over Andrew’s face before it was gone in an instant, some decision made.

"Yes or no?" Andrew asked, gripping his collar with surprising strength.

"It's always a yes with you."

"Don’t say stupid things,”

“Don't ask for the truth if you're just going to dilute it"

Andrew tugged him closer so that their mouths met. Andrew’s hands tugged at his hair pulling him down, closer, closer, as their lips met and their teeth clashed, soft nips and bites to his swollen lips.

He got lost in it leaning in, hands tucked behind his back, forgetting his weight until Andrew let out a hiss. Of pain not from the kissing.

He pulled back. 

"I'm fine." Andrew declared with a glare.

"That's my line. Remember?"

"I hate you 97%."

"Every time you say that I believe you less."

"Don't ask for the truth if you are just going to dilute it." Andrew mocked.

He tugged at Neil’s collar again.

"You're injured," Neil pointed out.

Andrew glared, "I'll live."

Neil glanced at the bandages wrapped around Andrew’s torso and raised an eyebrow at the spots of blood seeping through. Andrew rolled his eyes and flopped back against the cushions with a sigh, and Neil pretended he didn’t see the small wince of pain the motion caused.

Neil rocked back in his stool away from the pallet. "I was supposed to tell Aaron and Abby when you woke up. Your family's been worried."

Andrew scoffed. "Doubt it was anything compared to the lamenting when you pulled a runner. I am shocked they have let you out of their sight."

Neil wouldn't know. He hadn’t spoken to anyone else or left Andrew's side for the three days he had been unconscious. "Haven't spoken to them yet. I should probably check on my horse."

Aaron pushed open the tent flap, entering to level a critical glare in his direction. It was then that Neil realized he hadn't bothered to disguise his features. "I heard voices," Aaron stated not lifting his icy gaze. "You were to fetch someone if there were any changes."

Neil shrugged. Aaron's disinterest in him seemed to have morphed into fervent dislike in his absence. Aaron checked on Andrew’s wounds and Neil watched with a critical gaze, the speed at which Andrew healed was nothing short of miraculous. 

A frantic and loudly worrying Nicky soon entered the tent, followed by a much calmer Erik and Kevin who played off his worry as aloof. Neil made to slip out and give them some space but was suddenly overwhelmed by Nicky's arms around him after he was rebuffed in his attempts to hug Andrew.

"Thank you." Nicky cried, "I hate to think what might have happened if you hadn't found him."

"Um you’re welcome," Neil replied. Nicky still didn't let go, hugging him tighter if anything. 

"Don't think you are getting out of explaining where you ran off to and why. Do you have any idea how worried we all were? And what is with this new look? Red hair, blue eyes? Utterly gorgeous how -- And I'm so glad you're back. Andrew sulked for months after you left."

"Nicky," Andrew growled low, a warning. "Let him go."

"He might leave again."

"He won't." He met Neil's eyes with his golden ones and Neil nodded in confirmation. "And if he tries I'll hunt him down myself this time."

Neil smiled, and Nicky relinquished his grip letting him slip out, calling after him, "We are going to talk about this again later young man."

* * *

The rest of the foxes had similar reactions, hugging him, worrying over him, telling him how much they missed him. Matt hugged him so tight, lifting him off the ground that the bones in his spine popped. While Dan ruffled his hair once he had been put down.

Allison punched him in the shoulder and threatened to run him through with her spear if he tried that again before immediately being taken in by his new appearance and making him hold still while she wove braids into his red hair. 

Renee just smiled serenely and told him he was glad he was back. 

Wymack looked at him for a long moment without speaking and Neil was afraid he would be thrown out. "You sticking around this time?" He asked gruffly.

Neil confirmed it and Wymack nodded, "We kept the things that you left behind."

Matt joyfully brought him his abandoned possessions and helped him set up his tent again and showed him where his horse was being kept with Andrew's. She bit at the other animals so she and Sir were kept on the opposite side of camp from the rest.

He was glad to be back.

* * *

Andrew was up and about by the next morning. Limping a little but otherwise intact. The miracles of healing due to Abby's magic and Andrew's witcher mutations were astonishing. Neil swore that part of Andrew's intestines had been exposed but here he was upright.

Nicky trailed after him as Andrew limped off to check on his horse and Neil scrambled after him. The pair were grazing in a clearing and Neil patted the shaggy chestnut neck of his pony.

"So what's the horse's name?" Nicky asked.

"It's just a horse. Doesn't have one."

"Horses still need names. Andrew wouldn't name Sir either so I picked out a name. He refuses to use the full name though."

Andrew scowled and Nicky explained cheerfully, “It’s not just Sir, his name is Sir Fat Cat McCatterson.”

Neil looked at the coal-black gelding shaking out his mane. “Nicky that’s a horse.”

“It’s because I went to the school of Cat” It was also an unexpected glimpse at softness and affection from Andrew to his family. Andrew could have chosen to ignore the name but he used it. It made him grin in spite of himself, Andrew noticed and narrowed his eyes making a tsking sound at him. 

“He saw the medallion and the one I keep on the saddle and named him that. He also isn’t that fat. They overfeed him.” Andrew grumbled.

Neil nodded dismissing what he said about the foxes over feeding sir, he had caught Andrew feeding him treats, valuable sugar cubes, apples, honey, and carrots, all commodities hard to come by and doubly valued by someone with a sweet tooth like Andrew’s more times than he could count. He had also seen the extra few medallions, he assumed they were from the Witchers Andrew had killed. It was technically less macabre than the other trophies he had seen attached to that saddlebag.

“Let’s see, your name is going to be King Fluffykins.” Nicky proclaimed patting his chestnut mare. “Cause you’re so fuzzy and fluffy.”

“She’s a girl.”

Nicky waved his hand, “Gender isn’t real and horses don’t care.”

Neil sighed and conceded. If he had managed to wear Andrew down and get his horse’s name to stick he doubted he had any choice in the matter. 

* * *

He was oddly welcomed back to the foxes with open arms. They greeted him like an old friend, family, and tugged him back into their circle even tighter than before. Except for Aaron, who glared and rarely spoke to him. He stared at him with a sour look on his face whenever he was with Andrew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, Andrew's POV and the change in dynamics at the Foxhole.
> 
> Would love to know people's thoughts or comments about this chapter


	11. Doors and Keys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil and Andrew's relationship grows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are two explicit scenes in this chapter, they have _________ around them if you want to skip, the first is towards the beginning and starts after Andrew asks _"Yes or n-"  
>  "Yes." Neil breathed out before he could finish, pupils dilating._  
> And ends _"Do you want me to --" Neil gestured towards Andrew as he took another half step back once he was sure he would not crumple to the ground once he let him go, "I can," Neil offered_  
>  The second scene pretty clearly starts with Andrew saying _“I want to suck you off.” Make good on what he had said all those months ago._  
>  Ends with _"Okay?" Neil asked cautiously from a few feet away. Giving him space. Refusing to cross lines. Like the unreal hallucination he was. Fuck him._
> 
> Other warnings: Implied sexual content (even if skipped but not explicit, thoughts about sex/sexuality and Andrew's complex history with those things, no explicit references to rape/non-con but it is vaguely implied/in background, references to violence/murder, sexual/crude humor
> 
> If there is anything I forgot to mention or people would like tagged let me know, I can also be reached on tumblr at [mortalsbowbeforeme](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/mortalsbowbeforeme)

Andrew

The foxes were almost unanimously delighted by Neil’s reappearance with the exception of Aaron. Aaron instead spent his days glaring daggers at Neil and observing him with a tearse look. Taking in the changes in his appearance with suspicion, pointing it out to the others who waved them off as glamors and hair dye, or the sudden absence of them. Aaron though just watched Neil with unsettling tenacity. It might make Andrew jealous if he didn’t know better. He watched Andrew too, especially when around Neil, far more than could be excused by worries about his health. 

If Aaron didn’t have the stones to speak his mind Andrew would let him sulk and fester over it until he did. Neil’s staring though, that was more pressing. 

He didn’t stop, looking at him with wide blue eyes softer than they had any business to be after Andrew had seen him rip men and monsters apart with an explosion of untamed and uncontrolled magic. A force of Chaos. 

"Staring again," He muttered, snuffing out his pipe that Neil had leaned forward to inhale like some kind of addict. 

“What?” It was dark, late, Neil still joined him on the outskirts of camp almost nightly. He always asked, and left if Andrew told him to piss off. Something which was occurring even less now.

“Quit looking at me like that.”

"How am I looking at you? " Of course the idiot was unaware of it. It was unintentional.

"Idiot, you know what."

"I'm stupid remember. I need things spelled out." 

"It's too honest.

"I thought you liked it when I was honest," Neil smirked like he had won something. Andrew wanted to wipe that smug look off with his tongue.

"It doesn't suit you. It's unnerving."

"I don't know how to look at you any other way.”

He refused to give the prophecy much thought, there were too many coincidences, too many things that lined up for Andrew’s comfort. If it was real, there was no one it could be about other than Neil, he knew that he’d known that, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was he chose Neil for who he was, and Neil was doing the same, not because some bullshit prophecy told him to.

It was there in the back of Andrew's mind. Renee's words from so long ago. Nicky and Aaron would die, age, but would Neil? He wouldn't, not like them, he was part elf, a budding mage either alone meant he wouldn’t, not as a human would. The doppler blood might change things a little but he had been taught that they too lead extraordinarily long lives, if left uninjured. Neil might be there. Years from now, decades, perhaps centuries if Andrew didn't destroy this thing between them like he destroyed every other good thing that came his way. The urge was there. It was tempting. Cruel words, stabs to his insecurities. Push Neil away before he could reject Andrew. Before he could leave, again But he didn't. 

He remembered the wounded look on Neils's face when he had told him he wasn't interesting, boring. He never wanted to see it again, despite the twisted and cruel satisfaction it had given him.

The pleased hums he got and soft smiles as he pressed him up against a tree or boulder and slid his tongue into his mouth was far better.

The way he knew not to grab him or make demands or push. He kept his hands behind his back or at his sides whenever Andrew kissed him. He’d only needed to be told once. 

Andrew walked Neil backwards until his back thudded against the tree and his blue eyes looked at him so open and eager, disgustingly honest. Kissing him every time he looked at him like that probably was just rewarding it and encouraging it.

__________

"Yes or n-"

"Yes." Neil breathed out before he could finish, pupils dilating.

Andrew leaned in and put his mouth on Neil's. Neil eagerly parted his lips with a soft gasp not objecting in the slightest when Andrew ran his hands up and down his sides. Pausing once at his wrists tucked behind him against the tree to make sure they were still there.

They were a distance from camp and no one ever came this way. They wouldn't be caught. 

Neil gasped and his breath hitched while Andrew tugged on his lower lip with his teeth, one hand knotted up in Neil's hair tugging.

He pulled away for a beat to catch his breath and Neil's lips found his neck. He let out a full-body shudder at the surprising contact. Neil paused, lips still grazing his neck before continuing when Andrew didn’t tug him away with the hand still tangled in his hair instead loosening his grip.

Neil still found a way to… make him feel like this. Surprise him. Without crossing any of his boundaries. Surprise him, in ways no one had. Even Roland, his longest-standing casual dalliance, had never tried something like this. He might have stabbed Roland though to be fair, and he never had much mobility.

Neil's tongue flicked out over his Adam's apple and all thought of anyone before him vanished from Andrew's mind. Fuck.

He let his hands trail back down Neil's body to grab his wrists. Neil stopped and drew back. Stopping, always pausing at the first sign of something changing. He pulled his hands up to either side of his head. More than he would have allowed practically anyone else.

"Just this." He muttered, "just my hair."

Neil nodded eagerly, barely breathing out "Okay," before Andrew’s mouth was back on his with renewed ferocity. Stepping into his space, closer so that their chests touched while keeping a careful distance between their hips.

Stupid fucking illusion. Neils fingers tangled in his hair running through the strands gently without yanking making delicious whimpering noises as Andrew tried to figure out how far he could shove his tongue down Neil's throat.

He was stupidly enthusiastic and a fast learner for having virtually no prior experience.

Neils fingers twisted in his hair when he pulled back for a breath. Gasping and shivering as Andrew attacked his throat. 

He trailed his hand down to the bulge at the front of Neils breeches. "Yes or no?" He hissed against the curve of Neils jaw, pressing down to make his intent clear.

He waited until Neil had stammered out a yes. Before unlacing his pants with impatient fingers and slipping a hand in and taking him in hand. Moving his mouth back over Neil's lips and closing his eyes so he didn't have to look at the raw and open look on Neil's face.

Neil's hands tightened in his hair before deliberately relaxing his grip.

"Ah," he swallowed the stifled noises Neil made eagerly until Neil was panting no longer able to keep up with the kissing and just moaning into his mouth, and Andrew switched to sucking bruises along the underside of his jaw.

Neil let out another choked gasp mouth falling open when sped up the pace fisting his cock rapidly. 

"Andrew, I'm --" Neils hands clenched and tugged in his hair as Andrew tightened his grip, and Neil shuddered letting out a strangled noise as he came that sounded like his name.

He worked Neil through it until he hissed from over sensitivity and he drew back wiping Neils sticky release against his pants.

Neil sagged back against the tree trunk hands falling from his hair going limp, eyes falling shut. "Fuck." He panted harshly and Andrew took a moment to appreciate Neil disheveled and sweaty, as he stepped back. collar askew and oversized tunic half falling off of one shoulder. Lips puffy and lax with pleasure, a series of red marks on his neck that would surely darken to bruises by morning.Hair flaming in the flickering firelight. His eyes slanted open, still dark and glassy. 

"Do you want me to --" Neil gestured towards Andrew as he took another half step back once he was sure he would not crumple to the ground once he let him go, "I can," Neil offered.

__________

And for a moment Andrew considered it. A shocking fact on its own, and an entirely unfamiliar and new occurrence. He wanted him too. Still, he didn't trust that feeling, that desire. Trust himself not to just take and cause pain. So he just shook his head stepping back.

Neil didn't push just nodded as he caught his breath and carefully rearranged his clothing, grimacing at the smear Andrew had left at his side.

Andrew tossed him a water skin and he nodded his thanks.

Normally, at this point, Andrew would walk away without another word, untie whoever he was with, and retreat to whatever room or camp he had for the night to take care of himself. That wouldn't work here, didn't seem right not with Neil. 

Neil who had already said enough for him to infer he felt something _more_ for Andrew. As idiotic and illogical as that sounded. And while Andrew had made no such declarations, he felt something more than just lust around Neil. And Neil hadn't demanded any declarations either. 

It was enough to just trust him, to touch him at all. Enough to have kissed him in the past without any intention of going further. He hadn’t up until now, done any further, though kissing only occurred a handful of times as the Foxes had annoyingly hovered around Neil and trying to catch up.

Nicky was a bard. Full of romantic notions of chivalry adventure, romance, and courting. Had sung many a ballad on the subject, Andrew hasn't paid any attention to them. And the thought of putting those words or placing those stories on the nonexistent thing between him and Neil put a sour-tasting film in his mouth.

Neil wasn't like them. Not like anyone. And that's why Andrew could stand him. Why this understanding between the two of them could exist.

"Thank you," Neil told him before he could come up with words to say or an action to take.

"You don't need to thank me, idiot," he huffed.

He walked back up to Neil giving him a quick peck on the lips that made Neil look entirely too soft and innocent? for someone who pants Andrew had his hand down a few minutes prior. "Goodnight," 

Neil just smiled looking at him like _that_ again and reached his hand out pausing before touching his face or hair, and only completing the action to push his hair back behind his ears when Andrew gave him a nod of permission.

"I mean it though."

He clicked his tongue at him and spun on his heel to make his way to the ramshackle dwelling he shared with Aaron, Nicky, and, often, unfortunately, Kevin. All his problems in one place. Save one. He could feel Neils stupid smile, and that _look_ against the back of his head as he stood away. He had plenty of Neil’s reactions stored in his mind for him to review later when he took care of himself. 

* * *

The next morning he tossed Neil a key as they made their way back from the grainery and feeding Sir and King. He fumbled to catch it and then paused.

"What's this?" Neil traced the outline in his palms.

"Keys, typically used for unlocking things."

Neil rolled his eyes, "What's it too?"

"If you are staying you might as well have something a bit more sturdy over your head than a tent."

Neil blinked at him.

"It unlocks the door to the cabin," He explained refusing to look directly at him when he said it.

"Your cabin?" Neil asked softly.

"Kevin, Nicky, and Aaron sleep there too." And Erik frequently, although Andrew typically set up a tent and slept elsewhere for some quiet when he did. Calling it a cabin was a stretch, it was a few old and broken wagons taken apart and repurposed as a rudimentary dwelling. Only five rooms. Four tiny and barely big enough for a bedroll; the central of which was used for storage would have just enough space for Neil, while the others kept his wayward charges. He claimed the largest room for himself. But they locked, and it kept the rain out better than waxed and oiled cloth. Most of the other foxes had similarly repurposed a wagon or built a rickety shack as a more permanent and stable shelter.

"Andrew…" Neil looked at him with big wide eyes full of something Andrew didn't want to think about.

"It's just a key."

"You grew up on the streets. You know it isn't."

Andrew shrugged, it was the first consistent home he ever had, besides the cave in the falls, but that was someplace nobody else knew about. Somewhere he could go when he needed isolation. He'd spent a few weeks there after Neil left. But this, the cabin, just a place to rest his head at the end of the day. Even if it was where he kept everything and everyone else he needed to guard and protect.

"Take it or leave it," he shrugged and left unable to deal with the unguarded look and open affection written all over Neil's face. For as much as he lied he sure was shit at hiding his emotions.

Neil's trunk and bedroll had taken up space in the corner of the fourth room. It would make looking out for his things easier now that all of his problems were located in one place.

Aaron shot him a look and made a face like he had smelt something sour at Neil's presence, while Nicky was overjoyed and Kevin used the additional hours he got in Neil's company to drill him on his magic. He hoped they didn’t end up burning the place down, but it wasn’t even remotely outside the realm of likely possibilities. 

* * *

Aaron cornered Andrew a few weeks after Neil’s return. He’d managed to procure a small silver dagger from somewhere and was eyeing Neil with extreme distrust and dislike where he was practicing magic with Kevin. "He's a monster." He spat.

"No, he isn't," he growled a warning. 

Aaron didn't heed it. "His hair, the eyes, I know what he is, he isn't human Andrew. You have to see it."

"It may have escaped your notice but hardly anyone in this camp is human, you and Nicky are the only ones." It was quite likely that they weren’t fully human either, Aaron’s mother had seemed like a loose whore from their limited interactions before her unfortunate demise, so it was anyone’s guess who or what had fathered them. And he knew nothing of Nicky’s mother aside from how she bent to her husband's every whim.

"He’s not just a half-elf either, I did some research. He's a doppler, Andrew. A monster. He's got you all so fooled can't you see.”

He slammed his hand into Aaron's chest and wrested the dagger between his grip, "I know far more about monsters than you, brother. I was built to destroy them. Leave it alone." 

"He's a monster, Andrew!"

"Oh? Oh really? Rich coming from you. You fucking traitor, I know all about the little wench you've been sneaking around with. How's her little furry problem hmmm? I bet she gets a bit more snappish once a month, more so than a normal woman.”

Aaron paled. Had he genuinely thought Andrew wasn’t aware of a fucking werewolf living so close to him? That Andrew wouldn't take an interest when his brother started sneaking off to be with her?

“She’s never hurt anyone, and it doesn’t have anything to do with it. It's not her fault”

“Neither does Neil being part doppler.”

"Just because you’rd fucking him --"

"Doppler's aren't dangerous. Werewolves are. I have let your bitch live out of consideration and because she hasn't killed anyone yet."

Aaron flinched and nodded. "Fine." 

Then he tried again, "Our deal. He violates that you said--"

"You have broken our deal every single day since it was made. And doubly so since you met that harlot. Don't you dare." He snarled. 

"If you knew then why did you keep protecting me!"

Andrew looked away not saying anything, "Consider our deal done then. Keep your wolf. Neil stays."

Aaron didn't bother asking if he would still protect him. It went unsaid. To ask would have been an insult. He didn't have to, and that was more proof that Aaron was his brother than any he had before. 

"I guess I'll get used to him then." He muttered childishly. And that was enough. At least Aaron wouldn’t try to kill Neil in his sleep.

* * *

Later after everyone else had gone their separate ways, Neil plopped down beside him. “Your brother threatened to cut my balls off if I ever screwed you over,”

“Did he now?”

“Does he know about us? About this?” He made a gesture between the two of them.

“This,” Andrew repeated the gesture, “is nothing. You’re nothing.”

Neil grinned, smug and infuriating, he wanted to wipe that look off his face with his teeth. A disconcerting common impulse. “Well, you’ve always said you want nothing.”

“I hate you, 95%,” He muttered without any heat, feeling flushed. He didn’t deny Neil’s accusation.

Neil grinned, razor-sharp and sweet as poison. The fire flickering and casting his cheekbones into sharp contrast.

“Yes or --”

“Yes,” Neil breathed out immediately before he could even finish asking, pupils dilating. 

“You don’t even know what you are saying yes to, what if I wanted to stab you?”

“Do you?”

“Always.

“Do it then, stick your big sword in me.” Neil looked smug wiggling his eyebrows like he thought he had been particularly clever with his innuendo. 

“You’re so fucking stupid.”

“You like me though.”

Andrew didn’t deny it, choosing to make his way over to Neil, and push him down so he lay on the damp grass hovering over him.

__________

“I want to suck you off.” Make good on what he had said all those months ago.

Neil swallowed hard beneath him with a nod, eyes only a thin circle of electric blue lighting around his pupils, “Yeah, okay.”

He covered Neil’s mouth with his own, rewarded with a strangled moan and he let his hand trail down and explore his body slipping under his tunic to map out his skin. Neil crossed back his arms above his head without prompting.

“You can touch, back of shoulders and up.” Neil nodded vigorously, winding his fingers through his hair and kissing him back like he was drowning and Andrew’s mouth was the only source of air. 

“Off,” he muttered tugging at the edge of his tunic. Neil took advantage of his distraction and attached his mouth the side of his neck the second the garment was over his head.

Andrew shuddered, letting out a small moan that he would deny if Neil dared to bring it up. “Your neck fetish isn’t attractive.” he ground out through gritted teeth.

He felt the curve of Neil’s smile against his neck and a soft puff of breath near his ear, “You like it, I like that you like it.” Neil nipped lightly at his earlobe and traced the shell of his ear with his tongue before sucking on his pulse point.

Andrew groaned and his hips jerked against Neil’s involuntarily, tearing a sharp keen from Neil’s lips to his satisfaction. He grinned and pinched a nipple in retaliation and got a muffled curse against his neck in reaction. Neil’s head fell back against the grass when he did it again to the other side with a broken cry of his name.

He took the opportunity to start making his way down Neil’s body biting down on his nipples and sucking marks along his torso over his scars while one hand undid the laces of his pants until Neil was moaning and shaking mess. Neil lifted his hips and kicked off the remainder of his clothes without prompting. 

Neil propped himself up on his elbows and looked down at Andrew where he was positioned in between his legs, chest heaving, lips swollen and hair a mess from Andrew’s fingers running through it and tugging.

“Still yes?” He murmured, ghosting a kiss over Neil’s hip and giving him a chance to back out.

Neil nodded vigorously and his yes trailed off into a high-pitched whine as Andrew ran his tongue from the root to tip of his cock. 

“Oh fuck, Andrew, yes” he cried out again, hands digging into the soft earth tearing at grass, as Andrew wrapped his lips around his cock. 

He draped one arm over his hips to keep him still and pinned to the ground and prevent Neil from unexpectedly choking him with every involuntary thrust and jerk of his hips.

Neil writhed on the ground chanting his name and making other fantastic noises as Andrew took him deeper into his throat and mouth hollowing his cheeks and sucking.

Neil was probably loud enough to draw attention or be heard from camp Andrew realized as Neil let out another long and loud keen at the particular way Andrew wrapped his tongue around him while sucking him off.

Andrew pulled off Neil with a pop, grabbing his hands from where they were buried into the earth, digging into the soil rather than touching him without additional permission. He made a split-second decision and guided his hands to his own hair. "Don't yank," he cautioned voice gravelly.

Neil nodded vigorously, tangling his fingers in his hair before removing a hand and slapping it over his mouth to stifle the whimper he let out when Andrew went back to work, feeling his cock hit the back of his throat and swallowing around him to take him deeper.

He pulled Neil's wrist back down to his head pulling off once more. "I want to hear you. Don't hold back."

"Okay," he panted blue eyes slipping shut with a gasp, as Andrew stroked him. 

Neil shuddered as he circled the tip of his cock with his tongue and his back arched, with a sharp and choked out, "Ah," when he sucked the leaking head hard and before sliding his cock down his throat in one smooth motion.

Neil's moans grew more incoherent into babbling, a litany of praise and fantastic wordless sounds. Andrew was already on edge and pants' uncomfortably tight. He let one hand trail down to palm at himself to take the edge off but quickly continued to stroke himself, getting off on every reaction and sound Neil made.

Neil only lasted another minute before he was tugging at his hair frantically in warning, "Andrew, I'm so close."

Andrew just sped up taking him deeper and sucked harder making Neil curse "Fuck, fuck, fuck I'm gonna…" before opening his mouth in a wordless cry as he spasmed and pulsed spilling his release down Andrew's throat.

He continued and sped his hand on himself up until Neil was whimpering and hissing from oversensitivity and let himself be tugged up to Neil's mouth to be kissed deeply. 

He was so close, chasing his own release and past the point of caring that Neil was still here and his hands were on him, twisted into his hair.

"Neil," He choked out as Neil's lips found his neck and he shuddered before stilling coming harder than he ever had before.

He panted harshly coming down from his high and allowed one more chaste kiss before he rolled off Neil wiping his hand on the grass. Feeling overwhelmed.

He readjusted his own clothing before locating Neil's and tossing them to him. As Neil got dressed he fumbled with his pipe unable to get it to light with the way his hands still shook.

__________

"Okay?" Neil asked cautiously from a few feet away. Giving him space. Refusing to cross lines. Like the unreal hallucination, he was. Fuck him. 

Gods he wanted too.

"99%," he ground out, voice still hoarse.

And Neil laughed, eyes lighting up. "Not at a hundred yet? Guess I'll have to keep trying."

"Fuck you," he glared. Neil didn't seem to take any of the, barely existing, venom in his voice to heart, just smiling wider. Still a study in haunting shadows and contrast, with the added pretty distraction of kiss swollen lips and a collar of love bites and bruises marking up his neck and shoulder. 

"Hmmm maybe next time, not sure if I could again. Though if your stamina can take it I'm willing to try."

Andrew's gut lurched like he was at the edge of a precipice. He'd always been afraid of heights. Afraid of falling. But he was starting to realize he had already fallen long ago. Neil had only rejoined the foxes for a handful of weeks, not even two months and already he was knocking down all the barriers and boundaries that Andrew had so carefully constructed and hobbled together over the years. Except he wasn't. He wasn't knocking them down or stepping over them. No. Andrew had built fucking doors then gone off and handed Neil the damned key and an invitation to enter to boot. Sometimes he didn’t even bother and just bodily flung Neil over the walls instead because it was faster.

What once would have made his skin crawl and turned his stomach in revulsion now filled him with heat. He didn't mind the thought of Neil's hands on him. Would probably have let him get him off that night if it hadn't taken him more than 40 seconds to finish after sucking Neil off. He hadn't even blinked at getting off with Neil there. Did it without thinking.

He'd never done that before.

He threw the pipe at Neil's head when it refused to light.

Neil caught it with a wry smile sticking it between his lips and using magic to set the tip of one finger aflame and light it. He sucked in a long draw from the pipe without breaking eye contact. Offering a mocking and infuriating salute. The same one Andrew had given him all those months ago.

"I hate you." The cocky fucking display made Andrew's blood far hotter than it had any business being minutes after their previous activities. 

Neil exhaled his breath letting out a plume of smoke before offering it back up.

Andrew took a few draws before snuffing it back out and Neil hovered in his space and inhaled the smoke greedily.

"It's late we should get some sleep." He stated, deliberately without inflection. After they returned to the cabin in silence.

"Okay. Goodnight Andrew." Neil turned and started making his way in the direction of his own bedroll in the main room.

Before he could make it more than a few meters Andrew stopped him, "Where do you think you're going?"

Neil turned around, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Andrew rolled his eyes and grabbed Neil's arm dragging him off in the direction of his own room. 

Neil beamed, the look idiotically happy and grateful on his face like he was about to say something stupid, but he knew better than to make any comments or mention the flush of heat Andrew felt over the back of his neck as he bounded after him.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am playing around with formatting a little and maybe going back to make edits to my page breaks, none of the content for past chapters will change (idk if it notifies people who are subscribed)
> 
> Tomorrow's chapter is Neil's POV and they go on an adventure
> 
> This was one of my favorite chapters to write so I would really like to hear what people think!


	12. Oh To Be Alone With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil and Andrew go on a trip.  
> Neil's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is explicit content/Smut in this chapter bracketed by __________Starts with _Neil turned his cheek into his palm and kissed his wrist brushing over the faint lines etched over his veins, “Yes or no?” Andrew breathed, eyes sharp on his own, studying his face for any traces of hesitation.  
>  “Yes,”_“  
> And t ends with _“ Andrew slowly peeled away and brought him a horn of cool water and cleaning him up with a strip of cloth, after quickly dressing. Staring at Neil and refusing to look him in the eyes in equal turns.”_ and at __________ graphic descriptions end there but before and after that scene it is still implied/referenced that they had sex and the complex emotions that come with it are discussed/referenced, if you don’t want to read that/the break down of the scene you can skip until the next page break.
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: Explicit Sexual content, References to both Neil and Andrew's backstories, and Andrew's history with sexual abuse is implied/hinted at, sexual humor, graphic depictions of violence, references to injury, fire/arson, kidnapping  
> If there are any questions or anything I forgot to tag/you would like tagged let me know. I can also be reached on tumblr at [mortalsbowbeforeme](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/mortalsbowbeforeme)

Neil

Being back with the foxes was nice. He couldn't erase the twinges of guilt when Matt told him how worried they all had been about him. When Allison hugged him and said they were glad to have him back.

They welcomed him back with open arms. The only one not thrilled about his appearance was Aaron. But that probably had more to do with him picking up on his relationship with Andrew. Threats of bodily harm from Aaron aside, the other foxes hadn't noticed anything between them though 

Neil had caught whispers of bets and wagers on the two of them that silenced when he approached. Matt also looked at the frequent grass stains on his tunics and marks on his neck with confusion, even berating Kevin for training too hard and knocking him down. Andrew, the traitor, had hid his grin behind a mug of mead and voiced his agreement in criticizing Kevin.

Kevin had wasted no time lecturing him about his magic and this time he relented. The burst of magic in the forest wasn't the first time he had lost control like that. He needed some control, to understand it. And Kevin was one of the most powerful mages on the continent; if he assured him he could hide him with his wards, Neil would trust him. The foxes were a rogue group long hunted by the empire, if the wards shielded them, if Andrew trusted the protections, then Neil could too. For now, at least.

He was an infuriating but effective teacher. Neil was able to find the joy he felt in using his magic that he thought he had lost as a child. The freeing and ecstatic expression of energy, not just for violence but for beauty too. Manifesting his will from the chaos, Kevin called it. 

The biggest difference by far was the unspoken thing between him and Andrew. Late night chats and smoking by the fire now frequently ended with Andrew's mouth against his own and him being backed against a tree or pressed down into the mossy earth by Andrew's hands. 

Andrew slipping his hand into his britches and bringing him off. Or dropping to his knees and making Neil forget his own name and all the others that he'd ever carried.

And then Andrew would stand up, wipe the back of his mouth and leave. He never let Neil return the favor and only stayed while he got himself off once. If that was all Andrew was comfortable with Neil would happily take what was offered and never ask for more in return. He understood why after all, and it was a shocking miracle in itself the things Andrew did allow. That he had started to allow him to touch his hair, arms, and shoulders when they kissed. Sometimes his chest.

Sometimes they moved their talks into Andrew's room and Neil fell asleep there. Only to wake up with his head on a pillow and covered under a blanket and Andrew sleeping nearby. Or on occasion Andrew very close, hand underneath Neil’s pillow and bodies not more than a hand’s breadth apart.

“We are going somewhere," Andrew told him one morning as they were breaking fast with the other foxes.

“Where are we going? On a hunt?”

“No.”

“Where?”

“You'll see,” Andrew replied cryptically

“Is this the part where you lure me into a secluded part of the forest where nobody will ever hear me scream and you kill me?”

“Maybe,” Andrew snorted.

Neil didn't ask any more questions and saddled up King alongside Sir after grabbing his pack and anything he might need, slipping a few vials of oil into his bag on impulse. Better safe than sorry.

They rode for most the day at a quick pace, pausing once to eat, and slowing periodically to give the horses a chance to breathe before starting up again. They talked some but otherwise rode in peaceful silence.

They already knew most of each other's stories by now. The demons lurking in the past, the moments of joy. The important things, the big questions, ones that they had decided mattered to them and shaped them into what they were. So instead their conversations took a turn into outlandish hypotheticals. What would a world look like without any monsters or magic? Plans to survive a flood or a world where one could only speak to one person once a day. What Sir and King might say if they could speak.

It was nearing the end of the day when Andrew called the horses to a stop again dismounting and poking around some shrubbery and densely packed vines, rocks, and plants against a cliff's edge. Neil could hear the roar of water nearby but he couldn't pinpoint the source.

"You dragged me on a day’s ride through difficult terrain for some shrubbery? Romantic.” He teased.

Andrew glared, “Give me a second, it’s better to go on foot and to lead the horses from here on out.”

Neil hopped off King and Andrew eventually found what he was looking for and guided them to a thin hidden deer trail of a path on the other side of some of the shrubs once they passed through the branches fell back into place and they, along with the trail, were obscured from view. 

They hiked for upward another half hour and the roar of water grew louder and louder. Neil ducked to dodge tree limbs and vines but still managed to get a few scratches and slapped in the face by an errant branch at least once.

Suddenly the path opened up to a large flat and secluded clearing, surrounded almost entirely by a circle shear walls rock, at one end a massive waterfall tumbled into a calm and swirling pool. The pool eventually trickled into a small stream that stubbornly made its way through the grass, to the craggy jagged rocks at the other side of the clearing, tapering down to a narrow point in its upward descent, before escaping out a gap narrower than a man in the cliff face, and spilling down to creating another waterfall on the other side. 

Andrew took Sir’s bridle and saddle off tucking them under a small overhang at the entrance for safekeeping and Neil assumed they had reached their destination and did the same.

“How did you find this place?” It was awe-inspiring, and completely untouched by the brutal and scathing hand of humanity. The small pool was completely secluded and unapproachable from anywhere but the entrance they came through. 

Andrew shrugged, “Came across it by chance tracking a forktail. You know how to swim?”

“My mother's family is from Skellige, of course, I know how to swim.”

“Good.” Andrew stripped off his tunic and started unlacing his boots. Neil flushed and caught the tunic when Andrew threw it at him. He stared numbly for a moment Andrew rarely was in a state of undress around him. Occasionally on hot days, he would remove his shirt leaving only his breeches and bracers but that was in public company. And this decidedly wasn’t. They were alone, and neither of them were dying. Neil wanted to soak it in.

Andrew scoffed at his staring, "You coming?"

Neil nodded and started removing his clothes as well.

Andrew finished stripping down to his small clothes and hesitated for a moment at his arms then removed his bracers as well before diving into the clear pool and swimming back up to the surface. Neil blinked again pausing in shock. Andrew with his arms uncovered, and it looked like they would remain uncovered, was more vulnerability than he was accustomed to. Something nameless yet full of meaning flooded his chest. He stared at Andrew where he was treading water in the pool, hair slick against his head and damp, the rigid muscles in his arms and shoulders glinted with beads of water and bulged with every stroke.

He must have stared transfixed for too long because he was suddenly met with a splash of water to the face from the pool and he jumped back from sputtering. He glared down at Andrew and was met by one of Andrew’s rare smiles. Not a smirk, or barbed snarl under the guise of something more temperate, but an actual smile. 

“Are you going to get in or what?” 

“It’s just,” he looked at Andrew again, eyes flickering to his forearms. He trusted him. Him. Neil. Someone made out of lies and nothing. A mirage out of thin air and an illusion of a person. And it was  _ Andrew _ who didn’t trust anyone. Not really. To see him like this? Andrew had never let anyone see him like this. Not his own family, not Kevin, Renee, Bee, not any of the other foxes. But he let Neil. “Why?” he whispered softly looking into Andrew’s eyes. He knew every thought was written on his face, Andrew figured out how to read the truth from all of Neil’s lies long ago.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Andrew said dismissively.

Andrew never lied, but that didn’t mean he always told the entire truth either. 

“Okay,” he joined Andrew in the water and Andrew swam away to give him some space while he scrubbed the sweat and grime from their journey off.

They left Sir and King to graze in the lush grass while they swam, lazy circles around the pool, chasing and splashing each other, occasionally trying to drag the other under the water. Andrew could hold his breath for longer but Neil had the advantage of magic, which Andrew insisted was cheating.

The sun gradually lowered in the sky and Andrew was made of gold and silver, surrounded by a pool that shimmered like glass. Water catching on his eyelashes pale eyelashes. He had never understood attraction before, it seemed foolish. How could someone look at someone and want them from just their appearance? Without knowing who they were, that they were safe? Trustworthy? How could someone throw themselves at a body without knowing everything that shaped it first?

But he trusted Andrew with all of his heart, and he could not fathom how anyone could look at him and not see the beauty engrained in all of his features. The strength and resilience etched into every part of his frame. Every scar, every story they told, everything Andrew survived and shielded others from. 

His staring didn’t go unnoticed and Andrew backed him against a rocky outcrop near the edge, Neil’s feet found a foothold on the rocks, and his breath hitched as Andrew came closer. His eyes like molten glowing metal assessing him carefully, making his gut twist when Andrew’s slick limbs intertwined with his own. 

“Yes or no?” he asked, unable to remove his eyes from Andrew’s soft lips. Andrew raised an eyebrow in surprise. It was usually him who asked, who initiated things, upon reflection this might be a first. 

“If it’s a no that’s ok--”

“It’s a yes. And you can touch, shoulders, and up.” Andrew cut him off with an intense stare.

He leaned in and Andrew’s lips met his own in a soft smooth slide. Andrew left him more out of breath than he had when resurfacing from the water after going too long without air. Hands light on his body but pressed close against the rock wall, legs intertwined so they could both fit on the small perch.

Neil could have kissed Andrew for an eternity and it wouldn’t have been enough, but too soon Andrew pulled away leaving Neil wobbly and leaning forward to chase after his lips. He felt like his mind had been replaced with wool.

They dragged themselves out of the water to eat once their skin had started to wrinkle and the sun was low, streaked with red and gold. The brilliant colors of the sky seemed to catch and reflect against Andrew's damp ashen hair and the droplets of water on his body setting him aflame. Cat eyes, burning golden embers. Neil shivered and it wasn't because of the setting sun and his damp skin.

“Are we going to set up camp?”

Neil had not thought to bring his bedroll, not anticipating the length of their journey and even if they started back now they'd be lucky to make it back to the fox camp by daybreak. Andrew hadn't brought much either though Neil admittedly hadn't seen him pack.

"You'll see," Andrew said as he dove back into the depths of water near the pounding waterfall.

Neil waited for Andrew to resurface, staring into the now inky and dark depths that Andrew had disappeared into but the water just stilled like a plane of glass without any ripples aside from those caused by the fall and Andrew showed no sign of returning.

Another minute passed and Neil began to panic calling out for Andrew. What if there had been something lurking in the depths unbeknownst to either of them and dragged Andrew down.

Just as he was about to dive in after him. Andrew resurfaced and swam to the outcrop near the edge of the falls, beckoning him closer.

He rejoined Andrew in the water and let him guide them under the waterfall into a spacious cave beyond the veil of water. 

Andrew lit a few torches on the walls and the flames illuminated the cavern, casting light on crates and boxes. Moss and lichen on the walls, stalactites, and stalagmites clinging to the floor and ceiling. Dried meats, herbs, and spirits, some basic cookware. Some rugged furniture and shelves. Plenty of furs and pallets to make comfortable bedding. Dried out heads and trophies from various monsters. A fire pit. It was a camp. He thought there might be more things here than Andrew's cabin in the foxhole. 

"What is this place?"

"Somewhere I keep returning to," Andrew said watching as he explored the cavern, there were other small alcoves and rooms as well, minimally stocked. "Nothing has taken up residence since I was here last. I checked."

"How did you know it was behind the falls?"

"I fell in, fighting that forktail, there's a crevice under some bushes at the top of the mountain just big enough to fall through, wyvern managed to blow me back as I dealt the final blow. Fucking hate heights, a monster or person you can fight but falling from a great height? There’s nothing you can do other than fall. I broke my leg and had to camp out in here for about a week while it healed enough to leave. Got fresh water from the falls and fished for food. The beast had a nest in here too, some old things. I came back here periodically over the years when I needed to get away, stocked it up a bit. No one else knows it's here."

Neil couldn’t make out any light above them to separate the darkening sky and rock but it made sense, the fire was built under what looked like the tallest part of the cavern and the smoke had to be going somewhere.

Then it hit him this was the place Andrew went when he wanted to be alone. A place that was just his that he returned to year after year. A home. Somewhere that nobody else knew about. And he had shared it with Neil.

Andrew lit the fire, “If you could get our things in here without them getting soaked with some of your magic it would be much appreciated.”

Neil nodded and parted the waterfall so that their bags could float in relatively dry. “How did you bring in everything else?”

Andrew set about making them dinner, “Either let it dry by the fire in here or hiked up to the top of the mountain and dropped it in the hole.”

It seemed like a lot of effort. They ate in mostly companionable silence, Andrew seeming on edge and fidgeting with the chain around his neck. Neil didn’t mention it if Andrew wanted to say something he would. 

Once they finished and Neil returned from rinsing their dishes Andrew pressed something into his hand turning away. "Take it," he grunted and said nothing else.

Neil opened his palm to see one of the School of Cat medallions Andrew had hung on his saddlebag and his heart swelled with that unspoken feeling again. "This is one of your medallion trophies" he murmured in awe.

Andrew shook his head. "No, it isn't. I didn't pull that one from a corpse."

Neil froze in shock. Turning the medallion over in his hands and sure enough, Andrew's name was etched in runes on the back. "Andrew…" 

"It's nothing,"

It wasn't nothing. They both knew that. It was the first thing that belonged to Andrew and Andrew alone. He'd survived the trials and the mutations with this the only 'reward.' Something that could only be taken from him in his death. Because that's what it meant when someone had another Witcher's medallion. That they were dead. A witcher was more likely to survive with their heart outside of their body and willingly be parted from it. And for Andrew it had represented him finally being able to leave the school, to venture out on his own on occasion and not… It meant safety, protection. They'd traded secrets all those months ago, back and forth in the dead of night. Neil knew what Andrew had had to survive to earn this. And... And Andrew had given it to Neil. Someone who was nothing and no one. And yet, he had given it to him. It wasn't nothing.

"I thought I was nothing." He gave a weak laugh, trying to make a joke. It fell flat.

Andrew scoffed. "Fitting then, isn't it? Besides, when I eventually do kill you I am not having a dead man take the credit when they find your mangled corpse with the medallion on."

Neil laughed. He had long since stopped believing in Andrew's increasingly creative death threats.

They sat in silence for another moment, Neil staring at the polished pendant in his hand. It was steel or nickel, not silver; it didn’t burn him, he had always wondered what they were made of and assumed silver. 

Then Andrew spoke again softly, "I think we both know by now that you are not nothing."

Neil's gut lurched. He was so stupid. He had really thought that despite his own feelings, for Andrew, this was nothing more than physical. Convenient. Had convinced himself it was okay, to indulge in his feelings and the pleasure Andrew offered because he was the only one that felt something. Because despite it all, he was a dead man walking. He didn't know when, and he didn't know how, but he had stopped running. Given up. A life spent in fear wasn’t one he was interested in living anymore. Not when he could have love. Not when he could have family in the foxes. He had justified his actions to himself, by telling himself that because Andrew was only interested in him for sex, he wouldn't be hurt by his inevitable death.

He just prayed that it would be years from now. The wards surrounding the camp were strong and he was gaining control of his magic now. He could defend himself. But someday his past would catch up with him.

This, Andrew taking him here, giving him his medallion was more of a confession than Neil would ever expect from Andrew. There was nothing he could give in return that could compare, no words. He tried any way “Andrew, I, you know I lo--”

“Don’t say it.” Andrew cut him off and he fell silent, then softer “Not if you don’t mean it. Can’t take it back.”

“And if I do? Mean it, I mean.” He asked, not daring to raise his voice above a fragile whisper. Andrew’s keen ears would hear him over the roar of the water anyway

“You still don’t have to say it. I know.”

“You just said I didn’t mean it, but I do,” These past months had been the best of his life. And even before  _ this _ , Andrew, being around him had changed him for the better. The months after he had run were agonizing after having had a family in the foxes for a few months and suddenly being alone again. 

Andrew closed his eyes tight, wincing in concentration for a moment, every word jagged and precise like it was a struggle to force them out. “You stayed, I know you mean it. That’s enough. It’s… Not a word with good memories behind it. I don’t think I’ve ever even heard it said when someone actually meant it.”

“I won’t say it then, but I do mean it.”

“I know. And I also… Maybe in time, I could stand the word. Until then…”

“Then I’ll say it then.” Andrew nodded, taking another long swallow from his water skin and making eye contact as he did so. 

Neil felt himself lean forward, he wanted to kiss him, anything. But this, this conversation, this place, he would understand if that was all the vulnerability Andrew could handle, he would not ask for more. But still, he wanted. Not more, no, never more than what they wished to give one another. But rather everything, he wanted everything that Andrew was willing to give. Whatever that was. It was selfish, and love was selfish. Staying was selfish, risky. Apparently, this Neil who he had created, a person more real than anyone he had been before, was an exceedingly selfish person. 

“Why’d you bring me here anyways?”

Andrew flushed, “I thought you might like it, and besides, it’s far away from the rest of camp.”

Neil, still didn’t understand, and Andrew sighed avoiding his gaze “You seem rather self-conscious about the noise you make, I thought you might be more comfortable where no one could hear you...”

Oh.  _ Oh.  _

“So, my theory about you taking me somewhere nobody could hear me scream wasn't far off,” He felt the corners of his mouth stretch up into a grin.

Andrew scoffed.

“Yes or --”

“Yes,” Neil replied quickly and without hesitation pulse already racing

Andrew leveled him an unimpressed look. "You don't even know what you are saying yes too,”

“It's always a yes with you.”

“Until it's a no,” Andrew’s brow furrowed before smoothing out into a blank canvas. Everyone said Andrew was impossible to read, blank-faced emotionless. It was true it was hard, but it wasn’t impossible once you knew how, once you knew how to pay attention to the microexpressions, the little details, the pull at the corner of his eyes, the light in his face. Once you knew that he purposely made himself as unreadable as possible, a method born from necessity, and rarely lifted. Once Andrew let you see what he was thinking, what he was feeling. Once you knew those things, it was easier. 

Neil shrugged, he doubted that very seriously. Andrew would never do anything to hurt him and would stop immediately if he felt he wasn't enjoying himself or was uncomfortable. "I trust you to stop if I need it. And I trust you would take my no.

"And would you? Say no?”

“Yes. You can trust that I'll say it if I need to. Or want to. But I highly doubt I would need to. I want anything you are willing to give me. And I've had enough unnecessary very detailed conversations with Nicky when he's had too much mead and Erik’s away, to get the gist of literally anything that could mean. As long as it's you.”

Andrew fixed him with a long and contemplative look, so Neil kept going.

"You know I don't…" he paused to contemplate his wording, "think about others like that. Whatever this is or isn't. It hasn't changed the way I look at anyone else. I mean objectively I can tell if they are attractive I guess. But I don't. I don't know why and I don't know how I don’t have the words to explain it. But when it's you -- when I look at you, it's a yes. Just you.”

"You're a fucking pipedream"

“I'm not a hallucination"

Andrew scoffed again, rolling his eyes taking a swig from his waterskin.

“I brought oil,” Neil commented, and Andrew abruptly choked on his water.

“Why?” He asked once he stopped coughing.

"Just in case," It was just an offer, making sure to keep any inflection from his voice to make it clear that there was no pressure, it was simply an option. 

Andrew just looked at him expressionless, face going carefully blank.

“I trust you.” He reiterated, “You make me feel good, everything we've done together I've enjoyed. I don't need more, but if you want to do more or something else, I trust that everything you do will make me feel good

“And if it doesn't?” He challenged.

“Then you'll stop. If either of us aren't enjoying ourselves we stop.”

“You say it like it's so simple.” Andrew looked away towards the soft moss blanketing the cavern walls

“It is.” He didn’t try to touch Andrew, and if the conversation ended here he would leave and not bring it up again. 

There was silence for a few minutes and he thought the conversation over when Andrew spoke again “I don't want to hurt you.”

“You won't,”

“I might,” Andrew’s voice was low, barely audible over the roar of water.

“You aren't what they say you are.” Andrew jerked at his words and his lips hardened out into a thin line. 

“I won't be like  _ them.  _ I won't let you let me be.” He spat out, voice harsh and gravelly.

He almost reached out, but drew his hand back, “You aren't. You never could be. Andrew we don't have to do anything at all. We can just sleep or go back to camp or whatever. It's okay. It's a yes if you  _ want _ it to be. I'll say it as many times as you need me to. And if you don't want to, now or never, then that's okay. That, that bit doesn't matter to me. Not as much as you do.”

The look that flashed across Andrew’s face was borderline murderous before it smoothed out again. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?”

Neil shrugged, "Whatever you want,"

“I hate you, 99 percent.”

Neil grinned, “I know,” he knew what Andrew meant by now when he said that. 

Andrew didn’t speak again for almost half an hour, staring into the flames and Neil truly thought they were done talking for the night when Andrew knelt beside him and reached out a hand for his face. 

Neil turned his cheek into his palm and kissed his wrist brushing over the faint lines etched over his veins, “Yes or no?” Andrew breathed, eyes sharp on his own, studying his face for any traces of hesitation.

“Yes,”

__________

Andrew’s mouth was hot against his own. Searing, Andrew reached around to touch his wrists where Neil had already pressed them behind his back and brought them forward, “Anywhere above my hips, just don’t touch my ass.” Andrew hissed against his lips. 

Neil nodded vigorously and twisted his hands in Andrew’s tunic, trying to tug him closer. Andrew kissed him like it was a battle that he didn’t care who won, reckless and fierce, and instead of simply just being swept away he reveled in it. 

Andrew’s hands made their way under his tunic tracing over his scars and making a path over his torso. Andrew’s hands didn’t linger at his scars, but he didn’t avoid them either, he treated them like he treated the rest of Neil’s body, careful, and controlled but with blinding intensity. Neil couldn't bring himself to feel self-conscious or ashamed of his body when Andrew touched him like this. His mind was empty of anything that wasn’t him.

Andrew’s teeth on his throat, tearing mindless sounds from his lips, his hands twisted in the fabric at Andrew’s shoulders clinging to him pulling him closer.

Andrew’s hands hesitated at the edge of his tunic, “Off?” He questioned, Neil sat up and lifted his arms to make pulling it off easier. 

Neil went to kiss the side of Andrew’s neck and was rewarded with a cut off gasp and shudder. Andrew pulled back for a second and looked him in the eye gaze calculating before tugging his own shirt off with only a moment’s hesitation. “Furs will be warmer than the stone,”

Neil blinked at him from where he was laying in the moss only for Andrew to pick him up and redeposit him on the fur bedding near the fire. Heat flashed over his neck and face and he knew his face must be on fire.

“Still yes?” Andrew murmured, his heavy-lidded gaze fixed on his lips as he hovered over him crowding him against the furs.

“Yes,” The tail end of the word was cut off by a sharp hiss when Andrew started placing light kisses up and down the length of his neck

“And for you? Can I?” He managed to stutter out, digging his hands into the plush and soft furs. Touching Andrew’s bare skin was still largely unexplored territory and he didn’t want to cross any lines that might make Andrew stop. He could barely think, make sense of his words. Andrew’s hands hot and heavy on his body seemed to figure out exactly how to touch every inch of exposed skin to make every single nerve ending in Neil’s body come alight in ways that he didn’t even know were possible.

“Yes,” Andrew’s mouth was near his ear and he could feel the warmth of his breath against his neck when he spoke. “My hair, shoulders, chest, and back are fine. Nowhere below my hips.”

Neil wound one hand into his silvery hair and clasped his shoulder with the other, using his grip to pull Andrew back in for another deep kiss. Andrew bit down on his lip and tugged slightly, making Neil tighten his grip on the broad muscle of Andrew’s shoulders and groan.

He let his hands wander the broad muscular planes of Andrew’s chest and back, and felt the way his muscles shifted and flexed under his hands. He was barely able to keep up with Andrew’s searing kisses and his tongue sliding alongside his own in his mouth.

He felt Andrew tense a moment in hesitation before relaxing and closing the gap between their chests, still keeping their hips a careful hands breadth apart. 

It was overwhelming. He thought he might get washed away in the passion of Andrew's mouth on his own. The sensation of their bodies pressed together. His fingers knotted in Andrew's hair. Andrew liked that, he realized when he tugged on accident and was rewarded with a stifled groan.

Being able to feel Andrew's entire body shudder when he put his lips on his neck. Andrew was always so in control of himself, of everything. Being able to make him lose that control, just a little, was one of the most intoxicating things Neil had ever done. Being trusted enough for Andrew to allow himself to feel pleasure, to not completely hide his reactions, a soft grunt, a hard bite into Neil’s shoulder, a gasp, and a harsh intake of breath. His name whispered barely audibly against his lips. 

Andrew's fingers found the lacing of his breeches. "Yes," he breathed out before Andrew could even ask. Lifting his hips to help Andrew remove them and hearing them thud to the ground where they were tossed aside somewhere.

Andrew fixed him with an incomprehensible look and Neil put his hands above his head and out of the way in offering. Andrew nodded to himself and took his own pants off. Neil tried not to stare but didn't fully succeed, heart, pounding, and feeling warm. Eyes trailing over the muscles in his arms and chest, the bare skin that Andrew never showed and trailing downward before looking away.

"You're beautiful." He breathed and a rosy flush passed over Andrew's face extending down his neck and chest.

"You're stupid." Andrew retorted and Neil grinned. 

Andrew kissed the smile off his face, knotting his fingers in his hair, slotting his knee between his thighs. 

"Infuriating," Andrew hissed between kisses when they broke apart for air. 

"Impossible." He groaned when Neil turned his attention to his neck biting down at his pulse point. 

Andrew's hands touched his wrists above his head as if confirming they were there with one hand, then dragged them back to his hair. "Shoulders and up is still fine."

Andrew's hands were filled with purpose trailing his way up and down his body pausing to roll a nipple between his thumb and forefinger making Neil's hips jump up and letting out a gasp at coming into contact with Andrew's bare body. The gap between their bodies had become virtually nonexistent and Neil could feel Andrew everywhere. He jerked his hips back to keep to the no lower than his hips rule.

Then Andrew ground his hips against his with intent and they both let out a groan at the sensation. "Y--"

"Yes," he practically sobbed before Andrew could finish asking the question. Now that attention had been called to that particular part of his body he was dying for relief for the slightest bit of friction. Anything.

Andrew pulled his mouth back to his own and tentatively ground down again cursing under his breath at the feeling of their cocks sliding together, and Neil hooked an ankle around Andrew's leg slotting their hips together.

Andrew's forehead fell against his own panting, eyes closed, switching focus away from kissing to keeping their hips aligned with every thrust, and falling into a rhythm of grinding their cocks together in a slick slide.

"Neil, fuck" Andrew cursed, voice strained and desperate, he licked into his mouth hand trailing down to bring them together and fucking into his hand against Neil.

Neil let out an unrecognizable sound of approval every nerve ending alight. Overwhelmed by the feeling of him hard against him. Andrew steadily rocked against him holding them together and jerking them off with one hand the other braced beside his head. 

Andrew’ tugged his wrist downward, "You can touch," his voice was gravelly strained and almost desperate against Neil’s lips.

Andrew adjusted their hands so they were wrapped around each other. Trying to memorize the feeling of Andrew hot, hard and slick in his hand against him for the first time.

Waves of pleasure and bliss, mind going hazy from the sensation. Slowly rocking his hips up against Andrews fucking into the tight sleeve of their joined hands. Pressed close together, so close, every part of them, legs tangled, and Neil wanted to be closer, and closer still. And oh how he  _ wanted _ .

Gut twisting on the edge of that now-familiar precipice into ecstasy. Before Andrew abruptly pulled away, chest heaving and his hips jerked up into nothing. And he let out an involuntary whine of complaint suddenly bereft of his body.

"Do you still want to…?” Andrew asked breath ragged, rocking back on his heels, hair askew and disheveled eyes almost completely black save a thin ring of gold. Looking at him with something wild that could only be described as hunger.

"Yes," his response was immediate, the second his mind was cleared enough from the heady haze to understand what Andrew was asking and he scrambled to sit up.

Andrew was silent for a moment catching his breath.

"You’ll tell me if it hurts. If anything--" Andrew was serious now, urgent.

“I will," 

“The second you don’t like it--” His eyes were sharp, focused beyond just the overwhelming lust.

“I’ll tell you, Andrew,” He assured him, cupping his witcher's face in one hand.

“Okay,” He swallowed, eyes shut, then nodded his head after another long pause seeming to come to a decision and fixing his golden eyes on Neil’s own.

Neil shimmied back on the bedding and parted his leg’s “Do you want me to turn over or…”

“No like this, I need to see your face.” Andrew knelt between his thighs smoothing a hand over them, and ghosting a kiss on the inside of his knee making Neil’s breath hitch. 

The lust and passion from before were still there, but it was a mere undercurrent to the careful tenderness and gentle focus that was seeped through every action and word. Andrew never hurt him, was always careful, and brought him only pleasure, but true gentleness and tenderness were something foreign to both of them. Too many rough edges, sharpened by the years of abuse on each of them for it to be natural. But they could try. And try Andrew did.

He slowly kissed and licked a trail up one leg before switching to the other, eyes trained on his face the entire time to catch his every reaction, making him moan and writhe on the furs in frustration. “Andrew I need you to-- He cut himself off with a startlingly high and reedy moan, as Andrew spread him open and flicked his tongue over his hole.

“Okay?” Andrew looked up at him from between his legs, eyes dark and searching his face for any sign of apprehension or caution, and finding none.

“Yes, very,” He managed to get out before his voice cracked and his head fell back as Andrew knelt back down and traced his rim with the tip of his tongue, and dipping slightly inside.

“Oh gods,” He groaned in approval, unable to keep on looking at Andrew if he had any hope of lasting until the main event. He pushed his tongue past the ring of muscle and any strangeness at the sensation was swiftly undercut by the waves of pleasure from every brush of Andrew’s lips, light graze of his teeth, and twist of his tongue inside him coupled with every caress and stroke of his hands.

Andrew wrapped a hand around his length and gave half a stroke before Neil’s hand shot down to grab his wrist. Andrew pulled back abruptly, gaze sharp.

“It’s still a yes,” Neil panted, trying to explain, he had already been on the brink from them frotting together. “But if you touch me while you’re doing that, I am not going to last more than thirty seconds, and I really want to come with you inside me.”

Andrew smirked, moving his hands away from his cock, “Fine then, if only for your feeble stamina,”

Neil wasn’t able to get out an adequate retort, past the high keen that wrenched its way past his lips at Andrew fucking his tongue into him.

Andrew continued like that, slowly working him open with his tongue until Neil was an incoherent mess, thighs shaking. “I’m going to use my fingers now okay?”

“Fuck yes,” He choked out.

The first slid in easily after relaxing around his tongue and Neil tried to rock his hips against it chasing after the sensation in search of something he couldn’t name. 

Andrew held his hips in place with one hand, “Be patient,”

“I can take more, I’m ready.”

Andrew surveyed his face critically and seemed satisfied by whatever he found because he coated his fingers in more oil and pressed them back in one at a time. He could feel a slight stretch this time, but any strangeness at that vanished quickly. Andrew slowly scissored his fingers and twisted his stretching him open and sucking marks onto the inside of his thighs, occasionally flicking his tongue over where his fingers were stretching out his opening. 

He had enough clarity in his head to realize it was a really good thing that Andrew had thought to bring them this far away for privacy because there was still a solid chance anyone within five leagues could hear all the noises that he managed to wring out of him. 

And then Andrew curved his fingers upwards and pressed something inside him that made his spine arch involuntarily as he cried out in blinding pleasure. “Oh fuck, Andrew yes, gods yes.”

Andrew’s lips twitched up and he paused as Neil gaped at him in shock. “Good?”

“Fucking fantastic what was that?” Andrew put light pressure on the spot again, and sparks flew before his eyes as they rolled back.

“Yes there, do it again,” He didn’t care that he was begging; as long as he didn’t say please and ruin this moment, as long as Andrew didn’t stop, he would do anything. 

Soon, Andrew was up to three fingers, it was a bit of a stretch at first, but then Andrew brushed up against that spot again and everything melted into pleasure. “C’mere” He slurred out hooking one ankle around his waist and tugging him up to his lips.

His fingers in Andrew’s hair helping to ground him and giving him something to cling to as he pressed sloppy kisses to his neck, not missing the way it made Andrew shudder and hiss, fingers stilling momentarily. His mind was in a fog of pleasure, his limbs felt heavy and sticky like his blood was made of honey. Syrupy and sweet in a way he couldn’t get enough of.

“Neil,” Andrew rasped out, and Neil was too focused on sucking a mark where Andrew’s shoulder and neck met to do much more than moan in response. He relished every response he got from Andrew, every catch of his breath, soft groan, and stifled gasp. He wanted Andrew to feel as good as he was making Neil feel, and had regained enough sense of mind to focus on his pleasure in addition to his own. 

The fingers inside him were comfortable and Andrew teased his rim with his pinky. “I’m ready,” He groaned against his lips, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could last, even without Andrew touching him.

Andrew hesitated, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I need you, I want you,” Andrew swallowed and nodded slightly, but still didn’t move.

“We don’t have to,” Neil added, softer, “If you’ve changed your mind. We can stop. Or just continue like this.”

Andrew took a moment resting his forehead against Neil’s before swallowing again nodding, “I want you, Neil you have no idea how much I want you, I just…”

“You won’t hurt me, I won’t let you,” He let a harmless glow of light show in one hand above his head, and Andrew nodded, seeming reassured. He wasn’t helpless.

“You’ll tell me to stop if…”

“The second I don’t like what you are doing I will let you know.”

Andrew swallowed and nodded, twisting his fingers once more before removing them and coating himself in oil. Neil sighed momentarily at their removal.

Andrew’s eyes were on his own with an intense focus looking for any trace of hesitation.

“Yes,” Neil reiterated, hooking a leg around his waist and bringing Andrew’s lips against his own with a hand loosely wrapped in his hair.

Andrew’s breath hitched and he dropped his forehead against Neil’s as he pressed in slowly stopping once past the initial resistance. Neil let out a low groan and tilted his mouth up to brush a kiss against Andrew’s lips.

“You can keep going, it’s good.” he panted, “Slow.” Andrew’s cock was thicker than his fingers by a fair margin but Andrew had been very thorough in preparing him so the burn faded after a few seconds.

Andrew shifted his hips a bit deeper before stilling again, pulling a groan out of both of them. He continued slowly bit by bit, not moving until Neil told him until his hips were flush with his ass.

The veins in Andrew’s arms were taut and his eyes were squeezed shut, biting his lip. “Neil…” He hissed out, voice strained.

“You can move,” he shifted his hips trying to get some friction and sensation other than just feeling full and Andrew let out a choked noise, grip on his hip tightening.

“Fuck, I need a second,” Andrew rasped into his neck. 

Neil turned his head to the side to kiss the side of Andrew’s throat, rewarded by the sharp intake of breath and swallow, and tightening grip in his hair in warning. “Still good?”

“I am assuming you want this to last more than a minute if so I need you to be patient.” Andrew bit out.

“Now who has feeble stamina,” Andrew glared at him but the ferocity in his gaze was undercut by the red tinge to his chest and dark and glazed over look in his eyes.

“Fuck off,” He huffed, only to cut himself off in a sharp keen, higher than any sound Neil had ever heard him make when he wrapped his legs around his waist causing him to shift deeper inside of him. 

“I think that’s your job,” He smirked, tightening his legs around him and clenching down.

Andrew groaned a garbled retort into his neck. And gave a half thrust sending pleasure ricocheting through Neil’s body.

He started slow before falling into a smooth rhythm brushing past that spot that made Neil see stars with every other stroke. Until Neil was begging for more, for harder, faster and deeper, and the tension in his gut building, sending him higher and higher with each thrust.

Andrew's lips on his neck, his shoulders, his mouth. His fingers in Andrew's hair, nails scrambling for purchase on his back, gasping into his mouth, "Yes, more, don't stop."

"Good so good, right there, 'Drew," Slurring his words feeling like he was floating, simultaneously drowning and on fire. 

His lips on Andrew's neck. Panting into each other's mouths, too gone to kiss properly. Babbling incoherent nothingness and wails of approval when Andrew hitched his legs up on his shoulders changing the angle so every thrust directly hit that spot, and the tension in his gut built making his toes curl.

Trying to catalog and memorize every subtle reaction and sound of pleasure Andrew made. Every hiss of his name through gritted teeth, every groan and gasp, the sharp collection of breath, the careful way he moved his body, the gentleness and finely controlled strength in his hands, the blinding focus, and intensity of his gaze constantly checking to make sure he was enjoying himself.

"I'm close, gods, Andrew, just like that, don't stop." He had never been harder in his life and was so on edge he thought he might finish without even touching his cock. He had lost all context for where his body ended and Andrew’s began.

And then Andrew wrapped his hand around him. All it took was a half a stroke and a sharp thrust directly where he wanted it most before his back arched and he was coming with Andrew's name on his lips, for a seemingly endless small eternity of bliss.

Andrew fucked him through his orgasm and lasted a couple more thrusts before he abruptly stilled choking out his name.

Damp and sweaty foreheads clasped together as they shuddered through the aftershocks. Andrew slowly peeled away and brought him a horn of cool water and cleaning him up with a strip of cloth, after quickly dressing. Staring at Neil and refusing to look him in the eyes in equal turns.

__________

His jaw was tight, and his fingers twitched at his sides, “I need to--” he ground out looking somewhere just to the right of Neil’s face.

“It’s okay, you can go.” He murmured softly understanding why he would need space after what just happened, “Or would you rather I--”

“No, stay.” Andrew’s eyes flicked to his briefly before looking away. “Are you -- Did I--” He cut himself off again looking angry at himself.

“You didn’t hurt me. I liked it, a lot, all of it. There wasn’t a moment I wasn’t enjoying myself as much as possible.” He reassured him.

Andrew jerked his head once, standing up and grabbing his pipe with abrupt and lurching movements, “I’ll be back.” 

“Take your time,” He sighed stretching out under Andrew’s wary gaze, “I might fall asleep though, wake me if you need to.”

Andrew nodded once and made his way into one of the other unexplored chambers in the cavern after another vigilant glance. 

Neil stretched out in front of the warm fire content to be lazy and doze until Andrew returned settling down into the plush furs. He didn’t bother getting up to dress himself. It was remarkable really. How dry and warm the little alcove was despite the roar of water at the entrance.

* * *

Andrew woke him an indeterminate time later, by brushing the hair out from his face where his head was pillowed on his forearms. It was longer now than he was used to. He traced over Andrew’s face in an attentive glance and found his countenance softer than it had been when he left, calmer, more at peace.

“Am I at a hundred yet?” He yawned sleepily letting out a soft sigh as Andrew traced the outline of his shoulder blade with his fingertips, brushing over the top the years-old scars.

Andrew huffed softly not pausing his caress, "I think you're past that now. I may have to figure out a new scale. I'll let you know."

Neil hummed in acknowledgment stretching out against the soft furs covering the ground. A bit sore but comfortably so, and it was more due to the long ride and hike to their destination than from sex. 

"See that you do," he peered up at Andrew from where his head lay atop his crossed arms.

Andrew scoffed lightly, tracing his lower lip with his thumb, the other hand still light on his spine. “Sleep, idiot,”

Neil let his eyes slip closed. "You just going to sit there and watch me?”

"Someone has to keep an eye on you and make sure you don't do anything stupid that will end up getting you killed."

"Hmmm, wouldn't that just make things easier for you? Save you the effort."

"I'm the only thing that gets to kill you." He opened his eyes and Andrew made no effort to erase the vulnerable expression on his face.

"My life is yours then."

"Shut the fuck up." From anyone else the tone would have been harsh but from Andrew he was practically sputtering. The back of his neck rosy under a veil of fine silver hair.

"Make me," he smirked.

"Go the fuck to sleep Neil, I'm not fucking you again." The harshness of his words was cut by how Andrew hadn't stopped tracing his spine with a featherlight caress.

"Not ever?" He asked lightly. It would be fine if that was the case, if Andrew hadn’t found the experience to his liking, or if it had been too much, and didn’t want to repeat it. But he couldn’t deny he wanted to know if Andrew had enjoyed himself as much as he did.

"No, I meant tonight but it will be never if you don't shut up."

Neil grinned, and closed his eyes, satisfied with that answer. He felt Andrew slip under the furs beside him and wrap an arm around his waist adjusting his body so his back was against his bare chest before he drifted off. He let out a soft sigh of satisfaction and shifted deeper into his arms, the last thing he felt before falling asleep was the soft graze of Andrew’s lips against the back of his neck.

* * *

They stayed for five more nights, spending their days lazing around the pool, hiking in the mountains, or sleeping in the cave. They didn’t have sex again, out of Andrew’s concern that he might be sore on their journey home. Still, some days Andrew let him touch him and get him off with his hands, mouth, or thighs and Neil ended most nights in bliss and crying out Andrew’s name in one form or another.

After returning home the seventh day Nicky greeted them with a wolf whistle and a jeer until Andrew cut him off with an elbow to the gut. Aaron took one look at them, wrinkled his nose, and made a retching sound before stalking off into the distance.

He asked Matt and Dan what it had all been about while Andrew left to tend to their horses after nearly drawing a blade at Allison’s snicker.

“You’ve both got some, uh, love bites.” Dan gestured to her neck, and Neil flushed. He had forgotten or rather hadn’t thought about it. He was so used to being bruised, and these bruises; ones that were wanted, gods, begged for failed to register, even though he had noticed them on Andrew’s neck and on his own chest and thighs.

“Ah,”

“Also the way he was looking at you, and you at him too a bit, but I mean.” Matt added, “He was smiling? I mean, in an ‘Andrew’ way I guess? But I don’t know, I don’t think anyone has ever seen him make a face like that. Allison definitely won that bet, unless you’re going to pretend there is another explanation other than you two going off on your own to fuck like rabbits for a week.”

Neil’s jaw dropped and then closed abruptly. A part of him was surprised not everyone noticed how he felt about Andrew and the other part was shocked anyone had noticed at all.

Matt’s eyes widened abruptly, “Shit, don’t tell him I said any of that.” 

Dan laughed, “It was obvious if you ask me. The energy I can feel between you two. Though you were a bit surprising, I’ve never met anyone so indifferent to the charms of my kind as you. Even Andrew will look twice at my incubi brethren. But not you, not to me, nor any of my brothers and sisters when they visited after the harvest. I am not sure if I should be offended or not.”

“Oh, um sorry?” Now that she pointed it out he did remember, several succubi and an incubus visiting Dan, and while objectively they were aesthetically appealing, he hadn’t understood why practically everyone in the camp had stared and panted after them. They were nice enough he supposed, had that same strange melodic tone to their voices Dan did. But if anything he found it comforting, like a lullaby a mother sang to a child, not that he remembered his mother doing such a thing, certainly not arousing. 

Dan just laughed and ruffled his hair before going off to speak with Wymack after Andrew approached, settling a light hand on his waist with a stony look, making Matt flee.

* * *

The next morning he woke to the smell of smoke. Startling to his feet disturbing Andrew and dodging the fist that flew at him in the moment before Andrew truly awoke. The moment Andrew was awake his eyes widened and his nostrils flared.

"Fire." 

They scrambled out of the cabin to see in time for Nicky to sound the alarm and half the camp stumble out of their tents in a panic. Thick black smoke poured into the sky from the direction of their supply wagons, the shriek of frightened animals in the opposite direction, a crash, it was chaos. Neil ran in the direction of the stream, while Andrew ran to the horses and the others ran towards the fire to put out the blaze. With Kevin and the other mages, it shouldn’t take long to put out the fire. 

Then Neil paused, blood going cold. There were wards, enchantments, cast by all of them repeatedly making an accidental fire all but impossible. How did it start? He shook off the unease and kept moving.

That was a mistake. At first, he saw a shadow, a laugh, he immediately went on the defensive. Then he saw _her_ , Lola Malcolm, grinning widely, dropping down right in front of him from the trees. 

“Hello, Nathaniel,” came a sing-song voice.

He spun around to run, his path blocked by her brother Romero. “Oh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Not if you want this mangy pack of yours to remain intact.”

Neil’s blood ran cold, where the Malcolm siblings were Plank, DiMaccio, and more of his father's henchmen and loyal sorcerers were sure to follow. “Don’t hurt them. They haven’t done anything, they don’t know who I am.”

An explosion sounded in the distance, and there was a scream of pain. Neil flinched and Lola grinned teeth wide and feral. The same smile his father wore, the one that occasionally tore its way onto his own face. 

“Please,” He hadn’t said that word in months, hoped he never would again because he refused to say it in Andrew’s presence. But Andrew wasn’t here. Thank the gods for that.

“Come quietly like a good boy and we won’t have to.”

As much as he wanted to run, he knew he couldn’t not when it would put the foxes at risk. These people were his family, they cared about him, took him in when he had nothing, was nothing, they made Neil real. “Can I at least say goodbye?”

Lola just laughed. He tried again, “They’ll come looking for me --”

Lola cut him off and giggled, it wasn’t a pleasant sound cold and cruel and devoid of any joy. “You have four minutes, get your things, make it look like you ran. The camp’s surrounded by our best. Try to make a run for it and you won’t succeed. And wouldn’t that be so sad, all your little friends dying a slow and painful death. I bet that Witcher of yours could last a long time before he expired. Might be fun, I don’t think your father has ever taken apart one of his kind before.”

“I won’t run.”

“Clock is ticking Nathaniel better be quick before I get bored and change my mind.”

Neil swallowed, the dread and certainty thick and heavy in his chest and he ran back towards the flames.

Nicky ran past, Dan at his side trying to put out the blaze. The camp was in chaos, moving quickly but Neil felt like he was in slow motion. He didn’t have time. There wasn’t enough time. This was the last he would see any of them. He couldn’t say goodbye to them all. But Andrew. He promised Andrew he would stay. He couldn’t leave without saying anything. Not after… Not after everything.

Hopefully one day he would understand. He was smart, he would figure it out. That Neil hadn’t wanted to leave. Andrew would still hate him for it. He was sure, he would never forgive him but, at least he would live. He could find someone else. Someday.

He made his way back to their cabin feet feeling like lead even though he knew he was running. He caught Andrew’s arm when he saw him run past. He found him, by chance, by luck. Andrew looked down at him, brows furrowed in confusion. Neil swallowed and forced his face to be blank. 

“Thank you,” he tried to infuse as much meaning into the words as possible without choking on his words or saying what he really meant. For all of it, the medallion, the trust, the kisses, the keys, everything. “You were amazing.”

Andrew opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by another crash, more screaming and flames leaping in the chaos. “Fuck, we’ll talk later,”

Neil nodded and let Andrew go. He forced his fingers to release and not cling to Andrew like he wanted to. He tried to savor the image of Andrew looking over his shoulder as he ran to help the others but it was soon obscured by smoke. It was the last time he would ever see him.

He took a step forward, not sure what he was planning to do, or say. He didn’t want to go. Not now. Not so soon. Not when he was happy. 

But his arm was yanked back, almost pulling it from his socket and Lola’s nails digging their way into his arm. 

“Time’s up,” she growled and Neil nodded.

He didn’t fight. Not at first. Then he saw the flames leap in the distance, and Romero nodded to Jackson. “Burn it to the ground. If any of them catch sight of you kill them.”

“No!” he shouted and started to struggle, “You promised.” 

He tried to scream but a gloved hand was slapped over his mouth and his limbs were grabbed as he tried to fight their grip. He was rapidly losing control of his magic, he managed to wriggle free of one's grip, burning and knocking DiMaccio to the ground. 

He didn't make it far before a blow landed against the back of his head he swayed vision going blurry. He had the forethought to fling his sack propelled with a blast of magic into the forest. 

A fist cracked against his face and blood spilled from his nose flooding his mouth with the sick metallic taste and he spat the blood back into Lola’s face.

“Won’t be needing this anymore.” Lola yanked the chain from his neck and cast the medallion and keys to the side. He struggled to no avail rapidly losing consciousness

Lola started chanting and his limbs grew heavy, he was unable to let out any more magic. As much as he hated to be parted from the medallion at least Andrew would hopefully find it and know he hadn’t gone willingly. A hand clapped a pungent rag over his mouth and nose and he was too paralyzed to throw it off and his world went black.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from Hozier's "To Be Alone" for this chapter. (Also updated notes/titles for chapters 1, 2 and 8  
> I think this is the longest chapter in this fic, and it was probably the one I spent the most time on. I'd really appreciate it if you let me know what you think  
> Sorry about another cliffhanger, only 2 chapters left


	13. Burn the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew Spirals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: Graphic descriptions of violence and murder, fire, destruction, torture/aftermath of torture, blood/injury, references to Andrew's past history with abuse, panic attacks, dissociation.
> 
> As always feel free to ask any questions or let me know if I left a tag out or something that people want me to add, I can also be reached on tumblr at [mortalsbowbeforeme](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/mortalsbowbeforeme)

The air was still filled with smoke, and the sound of people coughing. The blaze had been all but put out and Wymack was going through roll call and any injuries were being taken care of and assessed. 

He couldn’t find Neil. A prickle of unease went through him. He’d acted strangely when they’d run into each other and looked at him like… Like he was trying to memorize his face. 

_ Thank you, you were amazing. _

Matt was still unaccounted for, as was Allison, and Dan was inventorying what had been destroyed. Neil was likely with them.

“Do you think he ran again?” Nicky asked gently when Allison and Matt returned and there was still no sign of Neil.

No. But doubt crept into his mind as he returned to their cabin and Neils things were gone.  _ What if he left?  _ Just because they had fucked didn’t mean anything. Not really. Andrew hadn’t even been able to look Neil in the eye after and he certainly hadn’t been able to tell him he loved him. Hadn’t been able to hear it said to him either. 

And he’d left Neil alone, barely a minute after he pulled out of him, hadn’t been able to handle it immediately after, so he’d just  _ abandoned _ him. For all his telling Neil to stay, he hadn’t been able too, he’d been the one to run. After Neil had given himself over to Andrew completely, trusted him with his body and soul, he just left him alone for hours. He had been vulnerable, and Andrew had  _ left _ immediately after he had taken his pleasure.

Maybe Neil cut his losses and ran. He was a runner after all. Could he even blame him? Maybe he had seen all that Andrew could possibly offer and realized it wasn’t enough. Maybe he had spent the rest of the week dying to get away from him and did so at the first opportunity, once he wasn’t trapped surrounded by stone walls in the fucking mountains. Maybe he had hurt him. He could have hurt him. Witchers were stronger than regular people, elves, or dopplers, it would have been easy if he hadn’t paid enough attention, one thrust too rough and Neil might have been hurting for days. What if he had hurt him? He had been so lost in his own pleasure, so caught up in the blinding hot tight clench of Neil’s body around him that he might not have noticed. He had thought all the sounds Neil made had been ones of pleasure but what if they had been ones of pain? He thought Neil had been chanting ‘don’t stop,’ but what if he had been begging, ‘stop, don’t?’ He was good at hiding pain, Andrew had seen it.

He wouldn’t do that, Bee’s calm logical voice in his head reminded him. Neil told him it was okay, suggested he take space after. He understood why he had needed to. Hadn’t judged him for it. And sex had been just as much his idea, he told him he liked it, reassured him, again and again. Wanted to do it again, even though Andrew didn’t want to risk him being sore on the ride back to the Foxhole. He had been eager, getting off on pleasuring him just as much as he did when it was Andrew’s hands on him the rest of the week. Told him as much.  _ I like that you like it.  _ He trusted Neil, body, and soul as he had never trusted anyone before. Neil looked at him like he mattered, more than anything, like no one ever had. Had wanted to say he loved him, would have if Andrew hadn’t stopped him.

But Neil was also a liar. And everyone else he ever trusted had let him down. And who wanted a lover that needed to be reassured for hours after, anytime they let you touch them? He hadn’t even let Neil tell him he loved him.

“Some supplies are missing do you think?” Kevin asked softly.

Andrew's jaw tightened and he didn't say anything. Had Neil just gotten what he wanted and left? Or had he realized he wasn’t worth it and cut his losses? Maybe he hadn’t been good enough at sex? He had practice, with his hands, with sucking cock, but none with that, Neil was the only one he had ever willingly let touch him, even a little, in moments of intimacy.

He wouldn't. That wasn't Neil, it didn't make any sense. Neil had never lied when it truly mattered. He looked at him like he was his entire world, blinding and honest in its intensity. He… he… 

_ Thank you, you were amazing _ . 

It sounded an awful lot like a goodbye. And the look on his face when he said it. Like his entire world was ending. The cold icy feeling in his gut increased. He hadn’t felt nausea in years, hadn’t felt sick. He thought he might upend his guts right about now.

"We should search the woods. Fan out." 

Kevin nodded and knew better than to question it. The other foxes were all too happy to help.

They found his bag first. Thrown halfway into a tree, and spilling out onto the ground. Neil never would have left without it, the gold, medical supplies, forged passes it was all there. Panic, thick and cloying, spread throughout Andrew’s body. 

Neil hadn’t let him remake their deal, his promise of protection. He still should have. Neil wasn’t his, but he was Neil’s and he should have protected him. Should have stopped him, not just let him run away and agreed to talk later. Neil was so much more important than a few bunt barrels of grain. 

Andrew began searching the surrounding area closer when he smelt it. Blood. Neil’s blood. 

He followed the trail until he found his medallion cast off in the grass. The chain broken by force. Blood, Neil’s blood coating the silvery steel surface, drying on the edges like rust. The keys that Neil obsessively fidgeted with and traced alongside it on the chain. He hadn't even left the keys the first time he ran.

And Andrew just felt rage. 

Kevin and the foxes ran up while he stared at the medallion in his hands. Neil was gone. He was taken. Someone took him. They must have started the fire as a distraction. Neil was gone. 

Nicky said something. Some condolence maybe, Matt asked a question. He didn’t hear either of them. His fist clenched tight around it. Hard edges cutting into his palms. Any sharper and his blood would be joining Neil’s.

He heard laughter. Hysterical. Who would dare be laughing?

Oh.

It was him

There was a torn piece of cloth on the ground near where he had picked up the medallion and a coin. Some insignia on the cloth.

Kevin saw the bag, Renee was holding it, the coin and the cloth. He let out a gasp and cursed.

He knew something. And Andrew was going to find out what if he had to drag it out through knives and fire.

“There’s something else. Tell me what you know.” His voice as tight as his grip on the medallion in one hand, the other hand twitching towards his sword. Kevin noticed the movement and got to the point.

“His father wasn’t just some random Nilfgaardian warlord. He’s the bloody butcher of Velen, right-hand man to the empire and their most bloodthirsty general. They wanted to make him into a weapon. He’s not just a source,  _ Aen Hen Ichaer _ , he’s Elder Blood see.” 

No, Andrew didn’t see but Renee gasped as did a few of the older elves and Wymack.

“Explain. Quickly” He didn’t remember making the decision to speak.

“There’s a prophecy they think he’s the Destroyer, that he will cause the world to end and doom the fate of the elves. They want to use him to wipe out the remaining resistance among non-humans and the North.”

“You knew this. And you let him into our camp.” Wymack glared at his son. Furious. 

“Wait. There’s another possibility, a different interpretation, he may save the world instead, he could save us and be the one to bring down Nilfgaard instead. It’s why I wanted to train him. He has so much potential, power, raw power, energy, unlike anything I’ve ever seen or felt. He might be the weapon we need to finally win. That’s why they wanted to control him. But if he was with us--”

“But what?” He snapped. Neil was not a weapon for anyone to use for their own ends. He did not care what Neil was supposed to mean to the world, all that mattered was what he meant to him. It was a stupidly selfish thing, and Andrew had gone long without getting what he wanted but this. Losing this. Losing him. It might kill him. 

“If they can’t, if they can’t control him or force him to help. They’ll take his energy, funnel it into their own loyal mages. It wouldn’t be as good, would waste some but, most of it--”

“What does that mean?” He snarled.

“They’ll kill him essentially, he’d just be a husk for them to drain for power. If that, that’s probably optimistic if anything. And Riko or someone else will get all that potential power and then… Well.”

Oh.

Haha.

He always said Neil would get himself killed if he took his eyes off of him.

What a joy to be right.

He never should have taken his eyes off of him. 

Andrew was already getting ready, strapping on his armor. 

“Andrew no, it’s too dangerous.”

He knocked Kevin to the ground and had a blade to his chin blinded by fury. “I wasn’t asking your permission. Tell me where they would take him.”

“There’s no way you will survive on your own.” The prophecy said he would burn the world, and he would. He would turn it all to ash for just the slightest chance. Even if there was no chance. He should have noticed. Should have realized something was wrong. Protected Neil better. 

He wrapped his hands tighter around his throat and pressed the dagger harder against his jaw, causing little beads of blood to appear.

_ He loved him. He loved him. He loved him.  _ Was this what love felt like? It felt an awful lot like dying. Like hands were on his body, prying him away from what he wanted most.

Oh, no. There were hands on him. Trying to pull him off, Kevin. Because Kevin had withheld important information. Kevin had said that was everything. Kevin made a deal with him for protection. And telling him about any and all threats was an implicit part of that deal. Kevin lied.

He fought back, thrashing, slashing with his knives and jabbing fists and feet at everyone as they tried to pry him off Kevin. He sent Matt and Erik tumbling with a well-timed blast from a sign before Renee and Wymack got him off Kevin while Dan dragged Kevin out from under him and to safety

He let out a wordless scream of rage and fury, not listening to any of the words, the meaningless assurances that Renee tried to offer, knocking her and Wymack’s hands away. 

“The nearest Nilfgaardian fort, or the capitol I’ve heard rumors of the butcher being on the move and planning to take up residence but Andrew…” His brother helped Kevin to sit back up, and Kevin rubbed at his neck, voice shaky.

“What?” he snarled ready to get on Sir and ride.

“He’s already dead.”

“You don’t know that.” He can’t be dead, he can’t be dead, he can’t be dead. The prophecy hadn’t said anything about him dying. It was about Neil, it had always been about Neil, he had known but he refused to believe it, and now Neil was gone. 

“Do you really think he would agree? That he’d keep his mouth shut and go along with it? They might spend some time trying to break him. But, they won’t spend forever, once they realize he won’t break…”

“If he is as powerful as they say, how did they manage to take him? Can’t he break out?” Aaron asked.

Neil’s power didn’t matter. It wasn’t what mattered. What made him special. It was the trust, the yes or no, the blue eyes, the lips so soft against his own, the honesty, the spite, the laugh, the fire inside him. It wasn’t the magic that gave Neil power. No, Neil had power over Andrew that was all his own.

And Andrew didn’t care. He had wrapped a collar around his throat and tossed Neil the chain, locked Neil’s grip on it, and thrown away the key. 

Oh. 

He was laughing again.

It was time to go.

“He doesn’t know. Not all of it. And he’s untrained, I was teaching him how to tap into the power, to direct it, but … It’s probably how they found him, they have people who can track his magical signature. I thought I would have enough time to train him before they caught up with him and could sense him past my wards.”

“So it’s your fault then.” Andrew’s was deathly calm and still, clarity suddenly. Funny that. Kevin blanched. “You knew, they could track his magic. He didn’t want to use it, and you lied to him. Told him it was safe. I heard you, you promised him they couldn’t detect him, Kevin. Encouraged him. You failed. And you know how I feel about broken promises.“

“I thought it would be -- They must have made Jean--” Kevin was backing up trying to put as much distance as possible between them.

There was no time. The panicked haze had cleared all that was left was clarity and singular focus. He would have Neil in his arms again by the day's end. Or die trying. Though that bit might not really make a difference if there was an afterlife, which was doubtful. “Is there anything else I should know?”

Kevin shook his head. It was the truth this time.

He sheathed his daggers and put on his swords and went to saddle up his horse. He still didn’t believe in the prophecy. No, it wasn’t why he was with Neil. If anything his feelings for Neil were in spite of the prophecy. He’d fought them, tried to push them down because of the damn vulnerability that prophecy foretold. But he believed in Neil, the trust and respect, the careful navigating of his boundaries. All of that didn’t mean the prophecy wasn’t true. It was, he accepted it. He hadn’t really known, until now. But it was true. He would burn the world to try and get him back. 

“You’re going?” It was Allison who called after him, he acknowledged it with a jerk of his head as he checked over his bombs.

“Wait.” Andrew turned to see his brother. “If he’s alive he’ll need a healer.” 

Andrew blinked surprised, it was probably as close to outright encouragement and blessing of his relationship with Neil as he would get but didn’t question it. “You have five minutes then I am leaving.” Aaron nodded and started shoving things into a bag.

The rest of the foxes sprung into motion, announcing deciding to come too. 

He turned to Kevin “Can you open a portal? Close as you can get.”

Kevin sighed and nodded. “I'm coming too. I can get us within an hour's ride to the Butcher’s old fort. It’s probably the best bet.”

Kevin opened the portal and Andrew charged through on his horse. 

* * *

"Where is he?" Andrew snarled ready to burn the entire fortress and surrounding countryside to ash.

When they emerged from the portal they weren't alone and Andrew was immediately on the offensive. They were surrounded by a small band of Skellige warriors who immediately drew their weapons. He drew his sword ready to cut through every line of defense the fortress had to offer single-handedly if he had to before Kevin gripped his shoulder and yanked him back. He spun around enraged.

"Andrew wait! I think they are on our side, some are storming the fortress see?"

He could see at the front of the pack a group assailing the walls. Kevin and Wymack handled the diplomacy and made a quick alliance. The band's leader was a short man who looked remarkably familiar. 

"Who the fuck are you?" He snarled, interrupting the terse negotiations. He didn’t have time for this.

"Stuart Hatford. I have reason to believe my nephew is being held prisoner and greater reason to believe that it is imperative to liberate him if anyone ever has any hope of standing up to Nilfgaard again."

"You're Neil's uncle?" 

"If you mean Nathaniel then--"

"I don't give a fuck, his name's Neil. And I'm getting him out now, are you going to help or are you going to get in my way?" He didn’t necessarily want to kill Neil’s family unnecessarily; but if they were anything like his mother and father, Andrew would the second he didn’t have more pressing concerns.

Wymack winced and hurriedly tried to smooth things over. 

In the end, they made a clumsy alliance hastened by Andrew refusing to wait for them and going ahead with his assault on the fortress. He was vaguely aware of the fighting around him the fortress was well defended but he had a mission. Kevin and the other mages using magic, the warriors fighting with arrow, axe, sword, and spear. He cut down anyone who got in his way with unmatched fury, making it past the gate and the courtyard and ripping doors off hinges and blasting them down with Aard and various bombs kept in his pockets until he was inside the stone walls. What remained of the walls anyways. Some scrambled out of his way when they saw him approach. He didn’t bother pausing to kill them too, someone else would. 

He pinned one man with more expensive armor than the others who had been shouting orders. Someone important. Someone who knew where Neil was. The man let out a strangled sound in fright. Andrew let a manic grin slide over his face laughing. He knew who he looked, covered in blood and gore, white hair red with it, eyes completely black with black veins running through his face. An effect of the enhancing potions but made him look as much of a monster as those he faced, flooding him with sickening giddiness and rage on occasion. 

“WHERE IS HE?”

“I don’t know, I don’t--” The man was wide-eyed and panicked.

“The prisoner, the butcher’s son,”

“Not sure if there’s much left. By now. Likely only scraps.” The man laughed cruelly, which was his mistake, no matter what he said his life was already forfeit. He drew a dagger and held it to his throat. 

“WHERE?”

“My sister would have taken him to the dungeons, down the stairs please--”

His begging was cut off with a squelching sound as Andrew ran him through with his sword. The body sliding down the blade until his gut was pressed against the hilt. He pressed a foot against it pinning it to the wall to draw his sword out.

He let the corpse fall to the ground leaving a trail of crimson red on the wall without a backward glance and headed off in the direction indicated. 

He downed another potion. He could feel the poison flooding through his veins, filling him with unimaginable strength and raw power, a weakness slowly killing him from the inside, alone with the sickening glee. But in the meantime he was unstoppable. He blasted cell doors and bars down without missing a single breath and continued his path forward the scent of blood. Of Neil, flooding his scenes and he let it be a guide amongst the labyrinth. He was aware of allies at his heels behind him shouting, offering aid, or asking him to slow, he did not care and paid them no mind. As they descended the scent of blood grew, shackles, and torture devices attached to walls. A thick layer of grime and filth everywhere dimly lit only by occasional torches. A few rotting skeletons, bones picked apart by rats. 

Finally, they came to a room, a tall and broad man covered in blood at the center, hovering before a body behind him chained to a wall pouring something into the man’s slack mouth. Recognizable as Neil only by his scent. He unleashed a wave from Aard and then Igni’s fire in quick succession blasting the butcher to the other side of the cell, out of the way, and left him for his allies to take care of. Neil was all that mattered.

_ Neil _ .

“Neil,” the only thing keeping him from falling to his knees at the sight was the insistent need to touch him. To make sure he was real.  _ Neil, oh Neil, as pretend as he is real. _

His arms were crossed above his head and covered in blood. Head and neck limp held up only by the shackles. His tunic in tatters barely hanging onto his bruised and bloody flesh. The acrid scent of burnt and charred skin, and rancid infection setting in flooded his nose. He ran up to Neil and positioned himself under his arms to help take his weight and lessen the strain on his shoulders. He hung limp like a rag doll, but there was a barely audible groan, the only indication that Neil was still amongst the living. His pulse was faint, the blood oozing out of his wounds slow. 

“KEY,” The scream ripped out of his lips, directed behind him where he knew Hatford and Renee dealt with the Butcher. 

The object whistled through the air and he caught it without turning around and set about undoing the shackles holding Neils bloody and raw wrists above his head. The second he was released he succumbed to gravity and crumpled, his descent to the ground slowed by Andrew. 

“He needs a healer.” the words left his mouth without intention he didn't know if he shouted them or whispered them, perhaps they didn't even leave his lips at all. He was too busy accessing Neil's injuries in a panic. His head lolled back and to the side, his hair falling away from where it had been obscuring his face and he choked. Lacerations on one cheek cross-hatched and cauterized around the edges. A silver knife. On the other was burnt flesh and vague round impressions, whether from a torch or more silver he could not tell. 

His arms had a similar treatment, there it was more obvious, silver coins and bloody slices charred and bloodily imprinted into his flesh. A rattling wheeze and cough left Neils mouth and blood spilled from his lips, which were burnt and bloody. A vial on the ground shattered but with shimmering liquid and residue pooling on the filthy ground. They’d made him drink it. Some potion made from silver, that was what his father had been tipping into his mouth when they entered. 

“RENEE,” the scream tore its way from his throat as Neil’s body began to spasm like a ragdoll’s.

NO.

Renee was at his side and soon followed by his brother and Abby. Someone tried to take Neil from him and he lashed out snarling, his for help forgotten, “Get away from us."

He wouldn’t let them take him. He wouldn’t let them hurt him. He wouldn’t let them take Neil away from him

"We need to heal him, Andrew he’s hurt!” she shouted. Nothing made sense; he had asked them to come, but couldn't bear the thought of them getting any closer. Of laying a hand on Neil. This was his fault. He should have paid closer attention. He shouldn't have doubted Neil not even for a second. If he had been faster.

He loosened his grip but refused to let him go or step out of his protective stance over his body. This couldn’t be happening. Neil couldn’t die. Not like this. Not so soon. 

A hand yanked his shoulder and he snarled spinning around, almost cutting his brother’s hand off, wild. “Andrew, let us help him.”

He looked towards Renee, her hands bloodstained, and a grim look on her face. He nodded. Loosening his grip and moving just enough so they could get to him. Abby started chanting with glowing hands, Aaron tried to tug him away and ducked from another blow.

“You will only make things worse, come on, I promise we will do everything we can. He’s going to be okay but you need to let us help.”

Neil was broken, in pieces, and Andrew's hands were only good for destruction and tearing things apart. So he would. To the man responsible. To every goddamned person in this castle. Every soldier and agent of the empire. He would burn it all. Leave nothing but ash. 

He didn’t resist as his brother and Nicky who had somehow appeared dragged him away. Making him let go of Neil. Taking him away from him. 

It was like severing a limb.

A low keening sound escaped his throat and his family looked at him in shock.

Nicky kept a grip on him while his brother returned to Neil’s side joining in with Renee and Abby. 

Blood stained Abby’s and his brother’s hands and they stepped away, Abby looking on the verge of tears. "There's nothing Aaron or I can do," he caught and he felt as though he were underwater. Drowning. Every sound distorted and muffled. 

His face was wet.

He wasn’t sure if it was blood or tears.

Probably both.

He hadn’t cried since he was seven, a starving child in the streets.

He wrenched himself out of Nicky’s grip and turned around to where Stuart Hatford was standing over the cowering body of the butcher. 

He was going to pay. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final art piece for this fic made by the amazing [punchsomeoneforme](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/punchsomeoneforme-willyou) they really went above and beyond with the all the art pieces for this fic.
> 
> Next chapter is the last one!!!
> 
> Let me know what you guys think!


	14. Fight Because You Don't Know How to Die Quietly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue  
> Neil's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, the final chapter.
> 
> Warnings for injury, violence, aftermath of torture, references to PTSD/panic attacks and nightmares, death (not of any of the foxes)
> 
> As always let me know if there is anything I forgot to tag or you would like tagged, I can be found on tumblr at [mortalsbowbeforeme](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/mortalsbowbeforeme)

Neil was dead. 

Death, he quickly realized was not nearly as peaceful as it was supposed to be far from painless. 

Pain was the only thing he felt, and he had to be dead because no one could survive this much pain. Like he was burning from the inside out, the skin being flayed from his body. He could feel himself turn to ash.

There was nothing else, no sound, smell, or sight that made it through. He could taste blood, and feel agony. Those were the only senses left to him. 

He’d hallucinated at the end, a vision of Andrew and his foxes, surrounded by fire.

* * *

Neil opened his eyes and saw white canvas above him. His entire body ached, but it was bearable, his senses had returned to him. He must be getting to the better or less painful part of being dead. 

It was funny, he never imagined there really was anything next. He always thought it just stopped, nothingness, certainly no awareness. 

He stretched out his limbs, everything hurt.

“Neil,”

Neil’s visions swam for a second as he put pressure on his hands in an attempt to prop himself up, and when it cleared he saw Andrew, faced tense, a bruise on his temple and one eye filled with blood, and his stomach dropped.

No. No. No, no, no. Panic abruptly flooded his veins. And his breath left him. They’d promised to leave the rest of camp alone, as long as no one got in their way. Not to hurt anyone else. He failed. Andrew was here, and that meant he was dead too and it was all his fault. It hurt, more than the silver, and all of his wounds, he had killed the one person he would have done anything to keep alive. He had died to save him and Andrew still died anyway. That he was here and there was some kind of afterlife was only minimal comfort. He could have waited, decades, centuries until it was actually Andrew’s time. He had robbed him of his life, his family, and likely the rest of the foxes too. It explained seeing him, the moment before he died. Andrew had already been dead and was waiting for him. 

“I’m sorry,” he gasped out with tears in his eyes, “I’m so sorry Andrew.”

“Breathe idiot,” Andrew’s hand was at the back of his neck looking at him with open concern, He leaned into the contact, grateful for it, even though it meant that Andrew died too.

“They said they wouldn’t hurt you too if I went with them. I--”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You’re here that means you’re dead too.”

Andrew squeezed the back of his neck. “I’m not fucking dead, and neither are you despite your best efforts.”

“Oh,” Neil couldn’t think of anything else to say as he tried to process the fact that he was alive, and so was Andrew. He was silent for several minutes far too long if the crease in Andrew’s brow was anything to go by.

“What happened?”

“You got yourself taken by your father, who apparently is the Bloody Butcher of Velen. Kevin filled us in and we came and saved your sorry ass, met up with your uncle on the way.”

“The others?” What price had been paid for his life?

“All alive, some minor wounds.”

“My father?” The words stuck in his throat and he felt ill.

Andrew’s expression turned dark, “Got what was coming to him.”

Neil nodded numbly leaning into Andrew’s touch. Andrew didn’t remove his hand and lightly massaged the back of his neck. “Renee healed you, there was nothing Abby or Aaron could do, it was, it was bad. You were touch and go for a few days.”

“They wanted to burn the monster out, it was what allowed me to evade them for so many years. It was what I had left of my mother, and it's gone.” The pressure from Andrew’s hand was the only thing keeping him grounded and preventing him from laughing hysterically at the irony. His father and his men thought  _ he  _ was the monster. They tried to purge the tainted blood from his veins with silver when he wouldn’t do as they commanded. 

Andrew’s forehead pressed against his own, hand firm against the back of his neck. Solid. Stable. Alive.“How long has it been?”

“A week since the fire at the camp, you were unconscious for almost six days. We are camped outside the fortress, what’s left of it anyway. Didn’t want to risk taking you through a portal”

Neil nodded.

Everyone was alive. His father was dead. He wasn’t being hunted anymore. He didn’t have to run. Could he be Neil? He wondered if the foxes would ever forgive him, let him stay? 

* * *

They would, as it turned out. Immediately and without question. Aside from some scolding for hiding the truth. He could stay, he could be Neil. 

When Neil was strong enough to leave the tent he hardly recognized the landscape around him. The dark stone fortress that he grew up in, grew to hate and dread, was little more than ash, crumbling stone and rubble. It was practically leveled, a tower still stood, but the beams were exposed and it didn’t look like it would stand for long. The courtyard, gone, just ash, the surrounding hills, and forest were soot and charred tree trunks. 

He stared at the debris in shock, it had all been standing, as strong as ever a week ago, when they dragged him in, now it was a decaying ruin scorched by fire. “What happened?” He asked Matt.

“Andrew happened. He was a bit excessive. I mean some of it was the rest of us but… After they found you, you were unconscious and it really didn’t look like you were going to make it and he just... There were no survivors. None. The only things left standing are what was held together by ancient magic too strong for a witcher to break. Most of what you can see is actually the ancient ruins the fortress was built on top of. I am sorry, I know it was your home, it must be hard.”

Neil shrugged, it might have upset someone else but if anything it was a relief. What he didn't like was the judgment in Matt’s voice. The poorly disguised horror. Like Andrew was some kind of monster. A monster wouldn't have done this. A monster wouldn't have cared enough to.

“It was never a home. I prefer it like this.” The stones had been too soaked in blood to ever really get clean. It was better that it was destroyed. Maybe someone would build something better in its place. 

Matt hesitated, voice having an undercurrent of fear, "Look, I know you care about him but are you sure? This? It wasn't just excessive--"

Neil bristled, "You forget what I am. What raised me. What I am destined to be. You know now, and you ought not forget it. If Andrew had been taken in my place, I wouldn't have stopped at one fortress and the surrounding area. And nothing would have been left standing. And bystanders, friend or foe? I doubt I would have known the difference."

Matt fixed him with a long look and for a moment Neil was afraid. Afraid he had shown the monster underneath, his father's cruelty, that he had lost the only family he had known. That they would fear him now. 

But then Matt grinned, "I am happy for you. You love each other a lot. And boy am I ever glad you are both on our side."

He made to hug him, but then stopped taking note of his wounds and just patted him very gently on the head. Neil blinked in shock. He had just admitted he probably would have killed them all in a mindless rage and he was patted on the head like a cat.

* * *

They returned to the foxhole as soon as they were all able, after scavenging the ruins for anything worth salvaging. Andrew barely left his side the entire time, treating his wounds himself and snarling at his brother and Abby when they attempted to do so. Andrew had moved Neil's bedroll into his own room without comment.

He didn’t speak much, and Neil didn’t ask him too. But he was always hovering in often tense, fixated silence like he couldn't let him out of his sight. And touching him constantly, not that Neil minded, a brush against his back, a hand on the back of his neck when Neil awoke in a panic from a nightmare, a leg pressed against his own, his fingertips light against his arm. Like he was constantly reassuring himself that Neil was there. His presence gave him something to lean against, to hold him up instead of collapsing, a reassurance that he was alive well, that both of them were. He also gave Neil the ability to breathe and not fear silver and pain lurking in every shadow. He could breathe when Andrew was by his side.

He was still in shock with relief that it was over, his father was dead, Andrew, his foxes, they were all alive, and hadn’t hesitated to go up against a brutal warlord on their own to get him back. Even after he had lied. He got to be Neil. Which was good, because he couldn't shift his features anymore. It was like they were stuck. 

The face of his father staring back at him whenever he caught a glimpse of his reflection. Eyes like ice, and hair the color of blood, slashes on cheek from a knife and mottled flesh from the burns on the other cheek. The security of being able to slip on a new face whenever he needed to hide was gone. And he was doubly recognizable now with the scars that they had branded him with.

"No more running," Andrew commented.

"No reason to run anymore," Andrew told him to stay, gave him a key, a medallion, safety, and trust. Guarded his secrets.

"There's still Nilfgaard, their Raven mages, the prophecy.”

Neil shrugged "I don't believe in prophecies."

Something complicated passed over Andrew's face, "Me neither. I think we make our own destinies. Forge our own path. Fall to our own stupidity. You need to choose your destiny as much as it chooses you in the end. Fate or no."

He took Andrew's hand, he had told him about the words of the soothsayer years before they had even met, and prophecy or not, Neil would choose him.

* * *

Kevin allowed them almost two weeks without thinking about the greater world and the implications of their actions before he spoke up, "They will take this as an act of war. We can't stay neutral anymore.

“Nilfgaard had always been our enemy,” Wymack replied

“They weren't actively hunting us down before. They will now. If we try to stay hidden they will hunt us down and slaughter us one by one. We need to make a stand." For Kevin to suggest making a stand was shocking. He was always the one suggesting they hide, that they avoid pissing the empire off, terrified of them. For him to say they needed to make a stand meant the situation was dire, if they didn't they would die anyway.

"The mages. We take down the Nest. End their largest defense and source of fresh sorcerers to replace the ones that ours cut down.” Dan suggested.

“It's too well defended and it can't be taken from the outside.” Kevin paced the camp, dismissing the possibility of taking his former home by force

“But from the inside? Jean. He hates Riko as much as you do. He doesn't want to be there.” Neil whispered quietly. The hatred in Jean's eyes whenever he spoke of Riko or looked at him was unmistakable, even in the one bloody week, he had been forced to keep their company.

“True. But he values his own life. Surviving is all he does. He won't die for us. Or risk it all for a suicidal plan. He has no reason to ally himself with us. No reason to join our cause. Not when it might cost him his life.” Kevin knew Jean best, out of all of them. 

“The Temerians and the Trojan force. Jean has met their captain before if I remember correctly. They were rather fond of each other.” Renee observed

"I'll reach out. To both of them." Kevin agreed. "See if I can get a message through to Jean."

And they did. They rallied allies, unified all those who would stand against Nilfgaard, the non-humans, outcasts, sorcerers, the beaten and the trodden on, and the holdouts in the north. Unified might have been too strong a word, they squabbled and disagreed as much as they cooperated, it was an alliance held together by swears of vengeance, oaths of betrayal, as much as it was one hoping for peace and a dream of a better future.

Wymack rallied the troops with a speech as they prepared to attack the Nest, the black walls of the Academy’s fortress looming in the distance, “All eyes are on us. It’s time to show them what we’re made of. There’s no room for doubt, no room for second guesses, no room for error. This is our night. This is our battle. This is our moment. Seize it with everything you’ve got. Pull out all the stops and lay it all on the line. Fight because you don’t know how to die quietly. Win because you don’t know how to lose. These kings have ruled long enough --it’s time to tear their castle down.”

That night the Nest fell, the first stronghold of Nilfgaard to fall in a generation. It burned, noxious smoke and fumes rising from the crumbling stone skeleton blanketed in ash. When he and Andrew fought side by side, naught but ashes had remained in their wake. Their path of destruction was perhaps too bloody for the other foxes, but they didn’t judge him for it. They still welcomed him back with open arms in the end. 

Jean had managed to leave an opening in his defenses and suffered for it, Renee was able to heal the man’s physical injuries at least. He refused to stay with the foxes, cursing Kevin, and saying that his debt to him was paid. So he joined the Trojans, became the right-hand mage to their captain. A disconcerting cheerful and optimistic man even in the bloody aftermath of a terrible battle.

Many were wounded, but all the foxes survived, Neil by the skin of his teeth letting his guard down when he thought Riko was defeated only for him to be attacked with his back turned. Andrew ensured the attack missed. Behind closed doors, Kevin and Jean insured that Riko could never be a threat again. Riko had died screaming, he should have killed Neil when he had a chance, should have been less cruel to Jean and Kevin. But he hadn’t and he died for those mistakes.

Neil didn’t ask exactly what his fate had been but he knew it was unpleasant and permanent. His curses echoing in the stone halls. Kevin looked pale when they reemerged, while Jean looked vindicated. 

Losing their supply of mages didn’t defeat Nilfgaard but it crippled them. Placing them on even footing with the renegades and rebels. It would be a long and bloody war, no real end in sight. But they lacked the strength to wipe them off the face of the earth as they would have before. 

They had a chance now. A chance to fight for their lives. No more running. It was time to stand for Neil to stand his ground. And he would, with Andrew and the foxes at his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this fic is over. I had a really great time with it and another huge shout out/thank you to [punchsomeoneforme](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/punchsomeoneforme-willyou)  
> punchsomeoneforme for the amazing art and being someone to bounce ideas off of. Part 2 is just their art all in one place.
> 
> I would love to know what people think of this fic, it is the first one I have that is completed. And conclusions/finishing things is the part of writing I hate the most/am worst at.  
> I am also planning a few other fantasy-esque aftg fics in the future and have an ongoing very slowburn JereJean post-canon fic if people want to read anything else I've written.  
> Thank you for all your support

**Author's Note:**

> I am going to upload one chapter a day until it is finished on Oct. 4th
> 
> Please let me know what you guys think.  
> You can also see punchsomeoneforme's art at [punchsomeoneforme-willyou on tumblr](https://punchsomeoneforme-willyou.tumblr.com/)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Silver, Secrets, and Steel Art](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26830849) by [Punchsomeoneforme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Punchsomeoneforme/pseuds/Punchsomeoneforme), [TheirHighestMajesty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheirHighestMajesty/pseuds/TheirHighestMajesty)




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